


Fair Trial

by leaper182



Series: Forged [18]
Category: The Dresden Files - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Minor spoilers for "Blood Rites", Minor spoilers for "Proven Guilty", Minor spoilers for "Summer Knight", Minor spoilers for "The Boone Identity"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-22
Updated: 2009-02-22
Packaged: 2018-04-26 11:13:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5002591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leaper182/pseuds/leaper182
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The meeting with the High Council looms, and Harry has to deal with the fallout.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fair Trial

**Author's Note:**

> An amazing amount of thanks goes out to shiplizard, beachkid, and gehayi for their beta-reading, encouragement, and questions. This fic would've never seen the light of day, if not for you guys. Thank you _very_ much!
> 
> Originally posted on February 22, 2009.

After what had happened Saturday, the rest of the weekend went downhill from there.

Bob and I spent Sunday avoiding each other. He'd holed up in the lab early, and only came out to get himself a cup of instant coffee every couple of hours. I did some yoga, went running -- the usual, basically. The only words we said to each other was when the phone rang, and it had been a call for him. Today wasn't shaping up to be any better, and this coming afternoon, Bob and I were going up against the High Council.

We might not have said anything to each other since our argument on Saturday, but I knew there was a lot that I _wanted_ to say. You'd think I would've been deliriously happy to find out that Bob really was in love with me, and had been for years. But there were too many questions I wanted to ask him. Why had he waited until I'd gone out on a date with Heather to tell me? He'd said that he'd been protecting me from myself, which was why he'd lied to me when I first told him how I felt about him, but he could have told me sooner. If he really had been in love with me, why hadn't he said anything after he'd been made mortal?

That last question stopped me cold. Had he been jealous when he'd kissed me, because I had been trying to move on? On Saturday, I had thought that the date with Heather had been a step in the right direction, since spilling my guts to Bob about how I felt hadn't been met with overwhelming enthusiasm. For my first attempt at getting back into the dating scene since Tara, it hadn't actually been that bad. Heather had been sweet, funny, pretty. The fact that she'd been a newly-made werewolf had only meant that she'd understand about the supernatural world being a part of my life, instead of most of the women I'd gone out with, who hadn't really believed in it, no matter how much they'd seen.

Bob could be the jealous type, especially if he thought that I wanted to try to get serious with Heather, or any other woman. But would he have gone _that_ far? Would he have kissed me and told me that he loved me just so that I would turn my attention back to him instead of dating a werewolf? Had he really been lying to me when I'd first told him how I felt about him, or had he been lying on Saturday?

I shook my head and growled something to myself. This wasn't going anywhere.

I hauled myself off the couch, and headed for the kitchen. There was a mug sitting in the dish strainer, and a plate of slightly burned scrambled eggs sitting on the counter next to the stove, along with a fork and knife. I picked it up, tempted to pitch it in the trash, but my stomach growled peevishly at the thought of wasting food that I hadn't cooked. Finally, I sat down at the table and shoveled eggs into my mouth, annoyed while I did it.

Bob had made them, of course. His cooking hadn't proved to be any better than mine, but whenever I wandered into the kitchen to make something for myself yesterday, I'd found a plate of something edible waiting for me.

Halfway through my plate of eggs, a knock on the front door made me lean over in my chair to try to see who it was. When I didn't immediately recognize the silhouette through the blinds, I got up and grumbled my way down the hallway. I opened the door, ready to tell whoever it was to give me about ten minutes to finish opening the store, when Ebenezar McCoy grinned at me.

"Morning, Hoss!" he boomed, his voice too loud for my sleep-deprived ears. "How's it going? Mind if we come in?"

I blinked for a moment, and then the pronoun he'd used finally sank in. "We?"

I looked past him to see that a young, slender woman with dark brown hair and and a mischievous look in her eyes was standing next to him. She was pretty, making the thick jacket and blue jeans she was wearing look good. I blinked at her. "Captain Luccio?"

Anastasia Luccio, Captain of the Wardens, continued to smile at me. "Hello, Wizard Dresden. May we come in?"

I stepped back quickly, opening the door wider. "Yeah, sure," I mumbled. "Something happen? The meeting's this afternoon, isn't it?"

Ebenezar looked around the storefront, and then snorted at me. "Nothing's wrong. Just wanted to take you out to lunch is all."

"Lunch?" I blinked for what felt like the hundredth time and glanced at the clock on my desk.

Ebenezar chuckled. "Late night last night, huh. Where's Bob?"

"Lab," I mumbled, pointing a vague thumb behind me.

As if on cue, I heard the lab door open, and Bob asked, "Who's at the door?"

"Ebenezar and Captain Luccio," I shouted back. I looked over my shoulder and saw Bob coming down the hallway, smiling politely at the newcomers.

"Blackstaff McCoy," Bob said with a polite nod to Ebenezar, and then his smile grew when he saw Luccio. "Capitano Luccio," he murmured, taking her hand gently and brushing his lips against her knuckles. He said something in rolling, fluid syllables that I didn't catch, and Luccio gave him a brilliant smile, killer dimples making an appearance.

I wanted to glare at him, but that would've been like posting a sign on my forehead that said, 'Hopeless Idiot'. Instead, I turned back to Ebenezar. "What's going on?"

"Already told you," Ebenezar said, sounding remarkably patient. "I'm taking you out to lunch."

"I just ate," I blurted out. My brain still wasn't firing on all four cylinders. I glanced at Bob again, and then back at Ebenezar. "And we still have to figure out what we're going to do at the Council meeting."

Bob shook his head, and looked at me for the first time in two days. "I've been working on that, Harry. Go and eat something." He looked me up and down. "Stars know you need it."

I glared at him. "Aren't you coming?"

Bob shook his head. "The Captain and I felt it best to get better acquainted before the Council meeting, and we can do that better here." He gave me a small smile that made me feel a bit warm. "We'll be fine."

"Sure you will," I muttered, heading down the hallway to find my shoes. When I thought about leaving Bob and Luccio to get 'better acquainted', I found myself wanting to set something on fire.

So much for trying to get over him.

***

About twenty minutes later, the cab pulled up to a diner a few blocks from my place. Ebenezar paid the fare, and pretty soon, we were sitting down in a six-man booth in a corner and the waitress was leaving a stack of menus behind. The place had been fairly empty except for one or two people sitting at tables, and a group of three sitting in a four-man booth right next to ours. I only really noticed them because it's not everyday that you see a black woman, a Native American, and a guy who could've been a younger Santa Claus sitting together.

I frowned at Ebenezar curiously. "Shouldn't we be sitting in a smaller booth?"

Ebenezar shook his head. "This'll be fine."

I shot him a look, but he went back to looking over the menu. "What's going on, sir?" I asked.

He shrugged, his wispy white hair wafting in the air conditioning that seemed almost obscene given it was October. "There's some people I want you to meet, is all."

I frowned. "Who?"

He didn't look up from his menu. "Just some friends."

I snorted and picked up a menu for myself. We ordered after a little bit, and then I looked at Ebenezar again. "Ebenezar, why are we here? Because I'm not about to buy that you're in town just to take me to lunch."

"I'm not allowed to worry about you?" Ebenezar asked mildly, taking a sip from his coffee.

"You live in Missouri," I said flatly. "You hate going to Council meetings. What's going on?"

Ebenezar shot me an overly patient look, and exhaled through his nose. "What do you think is going to happen at this meeting, Hoss?"

I frowned, the question catching me off-guard. I wrapped my hands around my coffee cup and thought it over. "The Council is going to bring up the fact that Bob's alive. Bob argues his case, and with any luck, he won't be executed and stuck back in his skull."

"The Merlin's not going to throw him a party, Hoss," Ebenezar snorted, shifting in his seat. "You'll be lucky if he even gets to sit down in the conference room."

"Hell's bells, sir, he hasn't had _time_ to do anything," I objected.

"And what about last time?" Ebenezar asked, looking me in the eye.

Mai hadn't been the first person to bring Bob back to mortality. That dubious honor went to my uncle's doppleganger, who'd brought Bob back in order to bring my uncle back from the dead so that Justin could go back to plotting against the High Council. Ebenezar knew about it because after I'd finally taken Bob home, he'd dropped by to "investigate" what had happened. Since Bob had died in my arms and went straight back to his skull, I had thought that had been enough to appease anyone on the High Council who would've wanted heads to roll.

I took a careful sip of my coffee and scowled.

"The Merlin liked Justin," Ebenezar said in a low voice. "He's not going to give a damn if Bob supposedly killed himself to save your life. He's just going to see a warlock who was able to break at least two Laws in less than twenty-four hours of being brought back from the dead."

"What the hell do you think I should do? Sell Bob up the river to save my own ass?" I hissed. "He saved my _life_. Hell's bells, the man taught me everything I knew about magic before I left home. I'm not turning my back on him." I might have wondered just exactly how Bob felt about me, but I knew that I couldn't watch him get executed. Not when I had a chance to do something about it.

"And if you stick up for him, you're going to look like a guardian who's fallen under Bob's sway," Ebenezar said mildly. "Let him get out of his own trouble. He's sure as hell done it enough over the centuries, if the Council records are anything to go by."

I gritted my teeth. "He died in my arms once. I'm not letting it happen a second time."

"So, now what, Hoss?" Ebenezar asked, eyes locked on mine. "Do you really want to be on trial all over again?"

"No, I don't," I snapped, "but if it means Bob gets to keep _breathing_ , I'll do whatever it takes."

"And if that included soulgazing the Merlin?" Ebenezar asked in a low, hard voice. "Letting him see the darkest reaches of you, and knowing that he's not going to cut you any slack?"

"If he wants to soulgaze me to make sure I haven't become Bob's Sith apprentice, fine," I snapped. "Hell's bells, you met Bob. Did he seem like Evil Incarnate to you?"

Ebenezar looked at me, his bright blue eyes narrowing. After a long silence, he asked, "You really think he's worth saving?"

"Yeah," I said firmly. "I do."

Ebenezar fell quiet again, and then he nodded to himself. "What'd you think?"

I blinked, and then realized that he was addressing the three sitting at the adjacent table. The woman stood up, slender in her dark dress and a skeptical look on her face as she turned to face us. "He doesn't know nearly enough about the ghost's history, Ebenezar." She looked at me, taking in my hoody and scruffy face.

"I know enough about him," I replied, staring at her without meeting her gaze.

"Nearly nine hundred years of driving masters insane, and not only was he your first teacher in the Art," she said coolly, "but you murdered your uncle. That's hardly a defense that the Merlin will listen to, boy."

I narrowed my eyes at her before looking at Ebenezar. "Who is this?" I asked, trying to sound like I didn't want to do something ungentlemanly to her.

Ebenezar snorted. "Hoss, this is Martha Liberty. Mattie, Harry Dresden."

"Miss Liberty," I said, turning to her and straightening a little, "have you ever even _met_ Bob?"

Her eyes narrowed. "No, I haven't," she said evenly, "but the Merlin has been the ghost's master at least twice. He is in a better position to know what the ghost is capable of."

I gritted my teeth. "His _name_ is Bob," I snarled, "and he's not a _thing_ that you can just order around."

"Da, that's true," a deep voice with a thick Russian accent said, and I saw the guy who'd reminded me of Santa Claus had stood up and joined us. "But the Merlin doesn't think that way. If you want to know how to beat your enemy, you must learn to think as he does."

I eyed him. "So, if I pretend to be an arrogant, self-righteous asshole with a narrow view of the world, I'll know how to beat him at his own game? Gee, that's pretty simple."

The big man grinned, his teeth a white flash amidst the flowing, black beard. "Arthur Langtry is a simple man."

"Harry, meet Simon Pietrovich," Ebenezar said with a smile. Simon nodded and nearly crushed my hand when I shook hands with him.

Martha didn't look amused. "The Merlin has been held his position for nearly three hundred years. Don't underestimate him."

Ebenezar scowled up at her. "He got where he is because he's a politician, Mattie. If what Bob's told me over the phone is true, he might have a plan for how to deal with him."

I frowned at him. "You're the one he's been talking to on the phone?"

Ebenezar blinked and frowned at me. "He hasn't said anything about it?"

I shook my head. "He showed me some notes on Saturday, but I've been busy with other stuff." It wasn't a complete lie. I actually managed to find someone's lost dog on Sunday while I was out.

Ebenezar squinted at me, and I resisted the urge to squirm.

"For someone who is willing to do anything to save his former mentor from execution," Martha said briskly, "I would have thought the two of you would be planning your defense together."

I squirmed a little. "We had a disagreement on Saturday," I admitted, feeling like I was a kid being sent to the principal's office. At Martha's raised eyebrow, I glared at her. "It's private."

"I see," she said. She turned to Ebenezar and asked, "Where is Hrothbert now?"

"At Harry's place," Ebenezar said. "He and Luccio are getting to know each other a bit better."

"Do you think that's wise?" she asked.

Before Ebenezar could answer, the third person from their table, the Native American who was wearing a worn leather vest over a white button-down shirt and a pair of blue jeans, got up from the table and joined us. His face reminded me of dried, sun-baked leather, but his eyes glittered. "They are so closely bound to the earth that they would speak no other tongue."

Ebenezar frowned up at him. "Have you been reading _Last of the Mohicans_ again?" The man grinned at him. Ebenezar turned to me and said, "This is Listens-to-Wind, but I just call him Injun Joe."

I nodded, standing up a little to shake his hand. "Pleased to meet you."

Listens-to-Wind nodded and shook my hand. "Likewise."

"As Joe was saying," Ebenezar cut in when I sat down. "They're both blacksmiths, and they're going to talk shop 'til the cows come home."

I frowned. "To make sure that if Bob might want to take over Luccio's job, for example, Luccio won't object?"

Ebenezar shot me an innocent look. "That's an interesting idea, Hoss. Might want to mention it to Bob when I drop you off at the house."

I snorted, looking up at the three newcomers. "You're on the Senior Council, aren't you?"

The Senior Council was the seven-man ruling body of the High Council. If these were the friends that Ebenezar had been talking about who were on the Senior Council, they would be able to stop the Merlin by voting against him as a group. There was just one small problem.

I turned to Ebenezar without waiting for an answer from the three newcomers. "How exactly are you planning on getting the vote reduced to the Senior Council? There aren't extenuating circumstances, and if anybody else has heard about the boogieman stories about Bob, they'd vote to execute him on the spot."

"There aren't extenuating circumstances that _you_ know of," Ebenezar told me.

"What do you mean?" I frowned, looking from him to the others.

Simon spoke up. "There have been signs that something is on the move, Wizard Dresden. We must be ready to meet it. Bob's return from the grave might actually save the Council from the worst of the damage."

"If the Merlin doesn't immediately kill him," I said. "And if the vote gets reduced to the Senior Council... what would you do?"

Simon squinted at me. "We would try to protect him, within reason. If he makes outrageous demands, he would be digging his own grave. There would be nothing we could do."

"But you would try to help him," I said, turning to look at Martha. We looked at each other without meeting each other's gazes, and she nodded after a long moment.

"We would, but we aren't all-powerful," she said. "Be sure to remind him that his execution might not be the worst that happens to him if he refuses to compromise."

I scowled. "Mai wanted to stick him in a dark hole and use him as her own personal weapons factory," I said in a low voice. "I'm going to make sure he's allowed to have a life outside of whatever he does for the Council."

For a moment, Martha seemed surprised, but she recovered her composure, and nodded to Ebenezar. "You have my support, Ebenezar. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other arrangements to make before this afternoon." With that, she swept out of the diner, her long, dark skirt swishing as the door swung closed behind her.

I looked at Simon and Listens-to-Wind. "What about you guys?"

Simon seemed to consider it for a moment, and then nodded. "We cannot guarantee that Bob will have _much_ of a life outside of working," he said, "but as long as his proposal is reasonable, I don't see why we shouldn't take advantage of his skill." He nodded to Ebenezar and I. "I too must head out. I will see you both at the meeting."

Simon left, leaving only Listens-to-Wind. "And you?" Ebenezar asked.

"People do not do well in cages," Listens-to-Wind said. "What Martha Liberty does not realize is that the helpless are easy prey for evil."

Ebenezar narrowed his eyes. "That mean you'll support Harry?"

Listens-to-Wind nodded. "It does." He nodded to me. "It was good to meet you, Hoss Dresden."

"You too," I said.

He headed out of the diner, leaving me alone with Ebenezar. "Well, that was interesting."

Ebenezar snorted. "They needed to know what you were like, Hoss."

"And you couldn't have told me about this sooner?" I asked, getting irritated. This was the second time this weekend an old friend had manipulated me, and I was getting sick of it.

"What would you've done?" he asked bluntly. "You'd've told them to fuck off, and then you'd be up a creek without a paddle."

I managed to stop myself from wincing. "At least I'm not genuinely evil, right?"

"No, you're just pig-headed, and sometimes that can be just as bad," Ebenezar said.

"So, what's going to happen?" I asked. "If the Wardens think that Bob's a threat, they might behead first and ask questions later."

"They won't if I'm standing right there next to him," Ebenezar replied mildly.

"All the easier to kill him if he gets out of line?" I couldn't help a hard tone creeping into my voice.

The older man aimed a level gaze at me, unafraid to meet my eyes. We'd already soulgazed before, so there was no danger of it happening again. "I already know that there's more to him than meets the eye, Hoss. Unlike you, I've actually had a chance to read through the records the Council has on him."

I frowned. "What do they say?"

"Quite a bit," he said. "And nothing I'm supposed to tell you."

I was about to say something witty and cutting in reply, but our food showed up, and my stomach grumbled loudly. Shooting Ebenezar an annoyed look, I started in on my bacon and scrambled eggs. After I polished off the plate and drank half of my Coke, I asked, "Do you really expect me to believe you're not going to tell me?"

Ebenezar shot me a look and sighed. "The records are sealed, Hoss."

"And yet you read them?" I asked.

"Being the Blackstaff has some perks," he grunted. "All I can tell you is that he's not anywhere near sweetness and light as you might believe."

I scowled. "I know that, sir."

"Do you?" he asked pointedly. "Did you know that he's driven at least five guardians to suicide? And even more certifiably insane? And that his knowledge is responsible for a lot of the atrocities committed during World War Two?"

"That skull is a torture chamber and a prison all in one," I growled, keeping my voice down with a lot of effort. "He told me that masters can actually _hurt_ him if they feel like it, and there's nothing he can do to protect himself unless he does whatever it is his master wants."

Ebenezar's expression went stony for a moment, and then he took a sip of his coffee. I think he didn't expect for me to know that. "What did you two fight about on Saturday?"

I blinked, thrown by the question. "Roommate stuff. Why?"

"He's going to be fighting for the right to stay alive, and you two aren't working on his defense because of 'roommate stuff'? Hoss, you need to learn to lie better."

"I'm still not telling you," I said flatly. "As soon as I get home, we'll start with the defense."

Ebenezar eyed me for a long moment, and then wiped his mouth with his napkin and set it on top of his bare plate along with his silverware. "You better."

***

The ride back to my place was uneventful, and when I got back inside, I discovered Bob and Luccio chatting in the storefront, the business sign still reading 'closed'. She smiled at him and said something in what I could only guess was Italian, and he grinned back at her. The urge to set something on fire reared its ugly head, and I cleared my throat, feeling like I should be wearing curlers and an old bathrobe. "So, did you two have fun?"

Despite my entrance, they didn't jump or spring apart or anything. Bob nodded to me, the smile still curling his lips. "You could say that we've learned a good many things about one another."

Luccio nodded in agreement. "Is Ebenezar still outside?"

I nodded. "He's waiting in his truck."

She nodded again. "Thank you, Wizard Dresden."

I smiled a little and held the door open for her. Never let it be said that my manners suffered when dealing with a woman I was sure I wasn't going to like. She shot me a smile, complete with killer dimples, and turned to shoot Bob an almost conspiratorial look. "Good luck, Wizard of Bainbridge."

Bob nodded. "Thank you, milady."

With one appraising look aimed at yours truly, she was gone. I closed the door and turned back to Bob. "So, what'd you two talk about while I was gone?"

Bob shrugged. "This and that. Mostly about bladesmithing. And you?" he asked, looking politely curious.

"Ebenezar had me meet a few of the members of the Senior Council," I said, leaning my hip against the edge of my desk as I watched him.

Bob nodded, not looking surprised. "I figured as much," he said mildly. "It would help the Council get a measure of you, and see if they would wish to aid our cause."

I frowned, shaking my head. "Why not have you come with me? It'd make telling if you fell to the Dark Side a lot easier."

Bob shook his head. "Not really. If the Senior Council members you met know anything about me--" He stopped himself, looking curious. "By the by, who did you meet?"

"Martha Liberty, Joseph Listens-to-Wind, and Simon Pietrovich," I said.

Bob's lips pursed in a way that I found very distracting, and he cocked his head to one side. "I remember Master Pietrovich from a few gatherings that Justin hosted at his estate, but I only know the other two by reputation." He narrowed his eyes at me. "What did you think of them?"

I shrugged. "Martha seemed hard-nosed. I thought she might not be willing to go to the mat for us, especially with her going on about how I don't know anything about your history."

Bob nodded. "I expected as much. She's known for being rather stern, but willing to listen. And Joseph Listens-to-Wind?"

I shook my head. "I don't know about him. He's the one who said you and Luccio would be talking shop while we were at lunch, and he seemed all right."

"Need I remind you that other Council members thought that Justin 'seemed all right', and look where we are," Bob said, eying me steadily. "He'll be one to watch, I'm sure."

"All right," I said, mentally switching gears, "what are we going to do about the High Council?"

Bob arched an eyebrow at me. "We?"

I frowned. "What are you talking about? We're in this together, aren't we?"

My old teacher watched me for a moment, looking confused, and then shook his head quickly. "Of course we are," he said, sounding confident. "However, considering that I am the one on trial, I suggest that you leave the talking to me."

"On trial?" I asked. "How do you figure? You haven't broken any Laws."

Bob shot me a faintly amused look. "Not this time, but I'm sure there are those on the Council who will feel it is only a matter of time."

"Mai being among them," I grunted.

"Mai and I have a... complicated past," Bob said, with a small smile. "As you well know."

I nodded. "So, we don't rely on her."

Bob pursed his lips. "I've been thinking about that, actually."

"And?" I frowned.

"And it's quite possible she could go either way with regard to my continued mortality," Bob said. "She was the one who brought me back to life, Harry. She knew what she was doing, and if she was willing to risk a lack of cooperation on my part, even after she returned me to mortality, she might be desperate enough to defend me to the best of her ability."

"But why?" I squinted, trying to think of what Bob could offer her. "What is it that Mai would want out of you?"

Bob gave me a smile I could only describe as incredibly patient. "Our deal was that I would make weapons for her, remember? I'm guessing that, given Captain Luccio's circumstances, I'm the only bladesmith with enough skill for the weaponry she requires."

I frowned, remembering the conversation at the diner. "She said she wanted another dragonslayer, didn't she?"

Bob nodded, noticing my expression and growing curious. "What did you learn over lunch?"

I outlined what little the Council members had said about the threat I hadn't been aware of. When I was finished, Bob pursed his lips.

"Curiouser and curiouser," he murmured. It was enough to send a tiny shiver down my spine, but I fought it down as best I could. "It would seem that the situation might be even more dire than we'd originally thought."

"What makes you say that?"

"Mai wanted me to create a personal arsenal for her, but if the rest of the Council is aware of a growing threat, it might be that they need me to assume Captain Luccio's bladesmithing duties until such a time that Captain Luccio can return to them herself."

"Could this dragon that Mai's going up against be the same threat as the one the Council thinks they're facing?" I asked.

Bob frowned, and shook his head. "I don't know, but it's certainly a possibility."

"Could one dragon really be that much trouble for the entire High Council?" I asked. "We were able to take out that dragon last year."

Bob shot me a look and sighed heavily. "We were halfway between this world and the other side, Harry. All you had to do was reduce the shield enough that the darkness would envelope the dragon and not the rest of you."

"Okay, so we had help," I admitted. "But you faced down Mai before you turned to the Dark Side. How hard can it be?"

That earned me Bob squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing the bridge of his nose as if his head was pounding from the sheer stupidity. "Mai was nearly a thousand years younger than she is now, and I was able to force her to reconsider attacking a small village. If her opponent is younger than she is, I would be very surprised."

"Do you think you'd be able to make another dragonslayer before Bad Dragon shows up?" I asked.

Bob shook his head. "That blade had been the culmination of my education. I knew I would never make another like it, and considering I've been forcibly retired for nearly a thousand years, I would be very surprised if I were able to make a passable sword without a good deal of time and preparation."

I frowned. "Then, how were you supposed to make another dragonslayer for Mai?"

"To borrow a phrase from you," Bob said, a slightly embarrassed smile tugging at his lips, "that was going to be a game-time decision."

"Why, Bob," I said, grinning at him. "I'm astounded. No proper plan in place before you agreed to Mai's proposal?"

Bob snorted a little, still smiling. It looked really good on him. "I still remembered how it felt to breathe, Harry. I wanted that back more than I feared what would happen if Mai discovered I might not have been able to deliver on my promise."

My smile slipped. "You're not going to die, Bob," I said before I could stop myself. "I'm not going to let it happen."

Bob narrowed his eyes at me, and his smile disappeared. "Be careful what kind of vows you make, Harry. You might not be in a position to keep them."

"Why don't you let me worry about that?" I said. "What time is it?"

"Nearly two," he replied. "Why?"

"We might have enough time to get you a robe to wear for the Council meeting if we hurry," I said, patting my pockets until I found my keys.

Bob shook his head. "That won't be necessary. Captain Luccio arranged for me to borrow a set of clothes for the occasion, provided I return them to her at some point, one way or another."

I frowned, looking him up and down. "How are you supposed to fit into her robes? You've got broader shoulders than she does."

Bob arched an eyebrow at me, his lips quirked just a little. "Who said I would be wearing her robes?" he asked, sounding amused. "I've already tried them on. They'll be fine."

"Oh." I felt a little embarrassed, but I muscled it down as best I could. "Well... is there anything I can help with before the meeting?"

Bob thought about it for a moment before he starting ticking items off on his fingers. "I have my proposal already finished, as well as rebuttals for any objections. I will be staying close to Blackstaff McCoy in order to ensure that the Wardens won't accidentally think me a threat and attempt to neutralize me before the meeting starts. The clothes have been fitted and are ready to wear. And your robes are currently hanging in the bathroom, by the by."

"I take it that's a 'no', then?" I asked, feeling a little uncomfortable now that when I wanted to help, Bob didn't need it.

Bob narrowed his eyes, and then gave me a critical glance that I could have almost sworn was an intent, appreciative look. "You might want to consider a shave and a shower before we leave."

I rubbed a hand over my jaw, and guessed that maybe Bob had a point. Scruffy and rumpled did not a presentable wizard make, and the last time I'd faced down the Council, I hadn't been looking my best. I nodded. "You want the shower first?"

"Please?" Bob asked, looking hopeful.

I resisted smiling, and nodded. "Just don't use all the hot water."

Bob nodded. "I shan't. But do knock on the door if I'm taking too long. I'd rather not have you looking damp when we arrive at the meeting."

The thought of Bob taking a hot shower, the water running down his body was enough to make me clear my throat. "Don't worry," I said, my voice sounding a bit hoarse. "I'll make sure you know."

Bob nodded again. "Excellent. Now, if you'll excuse me?" He headed back toward the living room at the back of the building, and then I could hear him go upstairs, and then come back down again.

I shook my head, and headed for the kitchen, getting myself a glass of water and drinking it in one long pull. I needed something to think about other than Bob naked in the shower. Water running down his body, outlining his muscles. His head thrown back as his fingers ran themselves through his hair, practically moaning as the hot water touched skin that had never known what a hot shower felt like.

A run sounded like a really good idea. I put the glass in the sink, and I was about to head for the bathroom when I heard the water start in the shower, and then a yelp. I was next to the bathroom door before I thought about moving. "Bob? Are you okay?"

"I'm all right," he shouted back, his voice muffled. "The water temperature surprised me but I've got it under control."

"You sure?" I asked, belatedly realizing that I hadn't showed him anything about how to change the water pressure, or even told him about how to make sure the shampoo didn't get in his eyes. Then I caught myself thinking about just barging in, and sternly muttered to myself, "No, Harry."

"Harry?" Bob called, "Did you say something?"

I jumped, and then cleared my throat. "Um, no. Are you sure you're all right in there?"

"I have seen showers in use before, Harry." Bob's tone sounded amused and, dare I say, a little teasing. "I'm perfectly fine. Though, would you mind bringing some more towels? There's only yours here, and they felt a bit damp when I came in. You really should allow your bathroom to air out more often, Harry."

Towels? Somewhere in the world, someone was laughing at me. "I'll see what I can find, but no promises," I called back, and then headed back up to my bedroom. I usually kept spare towels in one of the dresser drawers, but I hadn't had a chance to get to a laundromat lately, so it was quite possible that there weren't any left. And, because someone really hates me, I had a sudden mental image of Bob wearing nothing but a towel, his skin still damp from the shower, his hair sticking up every which way and half-dry.

I groaned, and went upstairs to check.

A quick search yielded two dark green towels, which I brought down. I tapped on the door with a knuckle. "Hey, Bob, found some. You're going to have to open the door to let me in, though."

"No, I won't," Bob said, sounding surprised. "It's not locked."

Not locked? I cleared my throat.

"You're still going to have to get out of the shower to take them," I said. "If I come in, it'll just let all the cold air in." Let's see him fight that logic, I thought to myself.

I barely heard a snort over the shower spray. "You seem to forget that I lived in a time when cold water was the norm for bathing. Just come in and set them down on the sink."

There was no getting out of it. Taking a deep breath, and sternly telling parts of me not to get excited because this was not the cheesy opening to shower porn, I marched in and set the stack of towels on the sink, like Bob had asked.

"Oh," Bob said, causing me to nearly leap out of my skin. I whirled around to face the shower, but the curtain was drawn, and all I could see was a faint outline of a toned body. Or, at least, I was assumed Bob was toned. He hadn't looked that out of shape when I'd seen him shirtless a few days ago. I did see broad shoulders, though. And a narrow waist.

"Yeah?" I asked, fighting to keep my tone casual.

"Would you mind passing me the bar of soap from the sink? The one in here seems to be a sliver." A wet, pale hand appeared, palm up.

I found the bar of soap and passed it to him, trying not to imagine where that bar of soap was going to touch his skin as soon as I left. "Anything else?" I asked.

There was a pause, and then I saw Bob shake his head. "No, thank you. Just close the door on your way out."

"Right," I said, a bit too quickly, and got out of there before what little dignity I had left abandoned me and I was about to suggest we try to conserve water by showering together. I reminded myself that I was still mad at Bob because of the timing of his little revelation, as well as the fact that now was really a bad time to demand answers to all the questions I still wanted to ask him. If, by some miracle, we got out of the meeting in one piece, I... would think it over.

My libido was fully in favor of jumping in right now, damn the consequences, but the rational part of my brain was talking fast in order to keep me out of the bathroom until Bob was finished.

Of course, that's when Bob decided to start singing.

Now, singing in the shower isn't that weird. I've had a few girlfriends who stayed the night, and some of them sang in the shower. I might or might not have sung in the shower myself, but the only way I would ever admit to doing so would be under torture, and even then, that's not admissible in court. The first time Bob had heard me, he'd asked if I had been trying to imitate buffalo mating calls. The less said about it, the better.

Of course, now that Bob was in the shower, he started singing. And inevitably, he sounded a lot better than I did.

I don't know what he was singing, since the only old language I really know is Latin and that's sketchy on my best days, but he made it sound good. I found myself lingering in front of the door for a minute or two before I remembered where I was, and I sternly forced myself to go to the lab.

What had once been a den in a perpetual state of organized chaos was now neat and orderly. Shelves that usually sported book-sized holes were now straightened, marble bookends that I vaguely remembered buying years ago at a garage sale keeping the books from falling onto the floor. Containers of potions ingredients were now clearly labeled in handwriting that wasn't mine, and organized in such a way that I didn't know where to find anything. The cabinets were now all closed, even the one that had always had trouble closing, and the candlesticks were now lined along one wall, the candles all topped with metal caps. What surprised me most was the table was bare for the first time in years, the burns and score marks in the wood standing out in stark relief. When I ran my hand over the surface, it felt clean and smooth. The only thing left on the table was a stack of papers with Bob's skull serving as a paperweight, and a golf pencil tucked behind the wisdom teeth on the right-hand side.

On a whim, I checked the copper circle that I had embedded in the floor with U-bolts, and sure enough, it was bare and looked freshly swept. My broom, which I had thought I'd lost years ago, stood in a corner, right next to the popcorn tin where I usually kept my snow shovel and my spare staff. Of course, the popcorn tin used to be in the living room, but my guess was that my new roommate thought that the lab would be a more appropriate place for it.

Part of me was pretty annoyed. Bob had been grumbling about my housekeeping habits for years, and now that he had had free rein of my lab, he'd apparently made good on his threat to clean and re-organize my lab.

And yet, part of me felt... warm and fuzzy? I mean, don't get me wrong, I don't like anyone messing with my stuff, and I was definitely going to have a talk with Bob about rearranging the lab without my say-so. But at the same time, it showed that he cared enough about me to want to make sure I could find everything in my lab. I'd gotten into the habit of asking Bob where something was while I was in the lab, but now, as soon as I figured out whatever arcane system he'd come up with and I rearranged everything so I could find everything again, I'd have an easier time of working. Not only that, but I wouldn't have a repeat of the times I've needed my circle free from obstructions in a hurry.

I heard the sound of footsteps behind me, and I saw Bob walk in, wearing only a dark green towel around his waist. The contrast made his pale skin seem even paler. He used a smaller towel of the same shade to rub at his hair vigorously. "What do you think?" he asked, smiling. His lips were a dark pink, and curved invitingly.

I blinked and swallowed with some difficulty. "Um, what?"

Bob looked at me and blinked. "The lab. What do you think?"

I frowned at him. "It's fine. Aren't you cold?"

Bob looked puzzled for a moment, and then smiled indulgently. "It's not actually that cold, Harry. And I'm already mostly dry."

Okay, Bob just wasn't playing fair. If he'd used anything remotely close to these kinds of tactics with his former guardians, I wasn't surprised they'd gone insane. Me, I was about to go crazy from sheer lust. What was worse was that I was fairly sure he knew exactly what kind of effect he was having on me.

"If we were to close the door," Bob said, his voice dropping to something resembling a cat purring, "I'm sure we'd be even warmer."

I cleared my throat and resisted the urge to tug at my shirt collar. "I'm sure we would. Are your clothes still in the bathroom? I'm going to need to take my shower."

"I knew I forgot something," Bob said, turning around to head back into the hallway, affording me a look at the curve of his spine, the muscles in his back, and one raggedly circular burn that centered over his left shoulder blade. I blinked, and before I could stop myself, my hand rested on his back, right over the scar. He stopped, the muscles in his back going rigid.

"What happened?" I asked, my voice quiet as I lightly touched the waxy-looking skin.

Bob paused, and then looked over his shoulder at me. "You're not going to like it," he murmured.

I glared at him, growling, "Stop trying to protect me, Bob."

He looked away from me, turning his face forward until all I saw was mussed grey hair, his broad shoulders, and the scar I was still touching.

"Are you familiar with how the medieval Church extracted confessions from those they believed to be heretics and unbelievers?"

My blood felt like ice in my veins. Once upon a time, the Catholic church believed that in order to bring people back to the fold, they needed to be shown what eternal torment would await them in the afterlife if they didn't come back to the church. People frequently died as a result of the torture if they didn't recant or convert, or whatever it was the church wanted from them.

And Bob thought I never paid attention during my history lessons.

I licked my lips and tried to swallow. "When?"

The question must have surprised him, because he glanced over his shoulder at me again. "After my arrest. The Council wanted me to repent for the sins I had committed. If I had repented, I was told that I would be spared eternal torment."

I frowned, surprised. "You didn't?" I hadn't thought that the High Council of his time would've been that merciful. Then again, Bob had been stuck in his skull for all eternity instead of a quick death. It wasn't hard to piece together what had happened. And if I was right, and the burn was close to Bob's heart, only one person on the Council would've been able to do such a thing and then make sure he was able to face the High Council after his non-repentance.

I was beginning to think that maybe Bob didn't like what position Ebenezar served on the High Council, rather than actually disliking Ebenezar himself.

Bob shook his head. "I was too far gone at that point," he said softly. "All I wanted was Winifred in my arms again. The rest of the world could go hang, for all I cared."

"Bob..." I murmured, setting my jaw and trying not to get choked up.

He stepped away from me and turned around, blue-green eyes meeting mine steadily. "I was a necromancer then, Harry," he said firmly, his tone not allowing any room for argument. "The man I was then doesn't deserve your pity."

I looked down at his chest, and the waxy, almost painful scar I had seen the morning after Bob had been returned to life was right where I suspected it was. "The Blackstaff burned your heart."

"More likely the lung, rather than the heart," Bob admitted. "But yes, it was the Blackstaff's doing."

My gaze lifted from the scar back to his blue-green eyes. "You broke one Law of Magic, and that meant they got to torture you?" I asked in a low, deadly tone.

"Oh, I broke more than one Law, Harry," Bob said, a sneer curving his lips. "I was a criminal in custody, and the Council was just as dangerous then as it is now."

"They're not going to get the chance to do it again," I growled. "They're not."

Bob's eyes narrowed at me. "If the Council decides to return me to my original sentence, swear to me you will not interfere."

"Not only no," I snapped, "but hell no."

Faster than I had expected, Bob's hand lashed out and grabbed my wrist in a punishing grip. I gasped in surprise, but he glared at me, his crooked teeth bared in a snarl. "Swear it on your magic."

"I already said no," I said in a clipped voice, trying to wrench out of his grip.

Bob said something in a guttural, rough language, and I found myself slammed against one of the cabinets, my breath whooshing out of me. Bob, still wearing the dark green towel, the other now slung over one shoulder, was holding up his right hand toward me, as though his hand were planted against my chest, and he was keeping me pinned.

"You will swear it," he snarled. "Or you're going to remain pinned against that cabinet door indefinitely."

"You can't hold me here forever," I gasped out, trying to ignore how cliche that sounded. Geez, I needed to think of better lines. "Sooner or later, you're going to get tired."

"Ah, but being a ghost has taught me patience above all else," he said, an ugly smile twisting his lips. "Sooner or later, you'll give in because if Hrothbert of Bainbridge doesn't appear for his defense, the Council will send the Wardens after me and surely execute me."

"What happened to wanting to breathe again?" I managed, trying to wriggle out from the weight against my chest pinned me against the cabinet.

"I've drawn enough breath over the past few days to last me another lifetime or two," Bob said calmly. "But if I can prevent you from dying heroically in my defense, I will count my death a victory."

"What about me?" I demanded, my anger rising. "If you really love me, you wouldn't ask me to sit on the sidelines and watch them execute you."

"And that is where you're wrong, Harry," Bob said, his voice maddeningly calm. "If I die, I have a chance of returning to life." The skull sat on the lab table, a silent reminder of what he once was. "If you die, there is nothing left. And I will ensure your death will never happen."

That stopped me cold. "You're telling me that you'd turn evil to make sure I didn't die?" I asked, my voice almost a whisper.

A grey eyebrow arched. "Will I need to, Harry?" he asked coldly.

I stared at him, and all I could think of was the soulgaze we'd shared just a few days ago. He hadn't just obliterated himself for Winifred. He'd thrown away everything, murdered people, turned evil in order to get her back.

Gulp.

From the very beginning, Bob had warned me that black magic consumed a man from the inside out, until there was nothing left. I hadn't known at the time that he'd been speaking from personal experience -- all Justin had ever told me was that his soul had been damned for eternity, and Bob had never elaborated about why -- but there had been an urgency in Bob's words the first time we'd ever talked about black magic. It had been something that, at eleven years old, I couldn't ignore.

Facing that same intensity, twenty-some years later, was kind of scary.

"Well?" Bob asked, his eyes boring into mine.

I shook my head, trying to calm myself down.

"Will you swear?" There were sub-zero winter days that were warmer than his voice was at that moment.

I licked my lips. "No."

Bob glared at me.

"You're asking me to betray everything I am for you," I told him. "You might be able to do that, but I can't."

"Perhaps you don't realize the gravity of the situation," he said, his hand never wavering, "but if you get it in your fool head to interfere with a Warden carrying out his lawful duty, you could be executed as well. And that," he snarled, "is unacceptable."

"Bullshit," I snapped.

"Excuse me?" Bob asked, sounding dangerous.

"You heard me," I sneered. "I'm calling bullshit. It's not okay for me to interfere with the Wardens if they're going to execute you right in front of me, but it's perfectly all right for you to turn evil because of me? I'll tell you what's acceptable, Bob. What's acceptable is getting through this damn Council meeting with both of us in one piece. What's acceptable is you trusting me to do the right thing. What's acceptable is you not throwing your soul away on my account. Do you think I want to see you get executed right in front of me? You died in my arms once already." I gritted my teeth and forced myself to say what I was thinking out loud, because maybe if I said it, it would make Bob think twice about trying to make me swear not to protect him. "I don't want that to happen. Ever. Again."

For a minute, I saw Bob's resolve crack, just a little. If I hadn't been paying attention, I wouldn't have noticed when his hand wavered. When I tried to push the invisible weight off of my chest, Bob's shoulders straightened, and I was pushed back against the cabinet door again.

"There's one thing you're forgetting, Harry," he said, his soft voice at odds with how confident he looked, facing me down in nothing but a towel.

"What's that?" I asked.

"I can't lose you either."

I opened my mouth to say something, but then Bob lowered his hand, the weight disappearing as he turned away from me. "You should take your shower if we're going to make it to the meeting on time."

Then he left me alone in the lab to puzzle out if he'd really just told me without saying the words just how much he loved me.

I took a quick shower and got dressed, only to find that the robe that Bob had found for me to wear had a long, visible tear near one of the lapels, and a large stain on the back that I had a feeling was Mister's doing. Grumbling under my breath, I slung it on and thought to myself that I hadn't looked any better when I'd faced down the High Council before. The last time I'd done that, I'd been named the keeper of Bob's skull, so that kind of cheered me up a bit.

What little cheer I had was gone after I'd managed to cut myself with a razor a few times, and I headed out into the living room with my hair still damp.

Then my libido smacked me over the back of the head and stared appreciatively at the picture Bob made.

When he'd mentioned a set of clothes, I'd figured that he would've gotten some kind of robe that would've worked with the suit he'd been wearing when he'd been brought back to life. It looked like whatever clothes he'd borrowed from Captain Luccio, it came as a full set, and given the amount of leather he was wearing, I had a feeling the clothes belonged to Joseph Listens-to-Wind.

As much as the suits he wore emphasized lean curves and lines when he was a ghost, the leather gave Bob a more physical look. He still looked pale, but the earth tones made him look less like a ghost and more like a guy who didn't get out in the sun very often. The vest he wore attracted the eye to the way he filled out his shirt, and the robe he was wearing resembled a duster that had seen more than its share of years on the road. The boots looked supple, and the pants were worn and sported a hole or two, but they showed off his legs very nicely.

What can I say? I'm a legs man.

"Harry?"

"Huh?" I looked up. Bob arched an eyebrow at me, and gave me a look that plainly said he'd said my name more than once. Only Bob could've pulled off that combination of fond exasperation and smugness.

"Are you ready to leave--" He stopped, and then frowned at the lapel of my robe. "Apparently not," he answered himself, reaching out to finger my robe critically. "Really, Harry, you need to take better care of your formal wear." Then he noticed what I was wearing underneath of it. "And why aren't you wearing your suit?"

"Suit?" I asked, pretending to not know what he was talking about. He knew as well as I did that I have exactly one suit, and I had a pretty good reason not to wear it.

Bob sighed through his nose, looking singularly unimpressed as he absently straightened my collar. "Yes, Harry, your suit. In case it had escaped your attention, this is a formal function, and wearing black jeans and a button-down shirt isn't appropriate."

"Oh, I don't know," I said casually. "It worked so well for me the last time."

Bob's hands slowly gathered the lapels of my robe into two white-knuckled fists. The look he was giving me made the Arctic look warm. "Wear the damn suit, Harry," he growled, his voice sounding sexy even when he was pissed off.

"Or what?" I challenged, smirking a little. It was about time that I got under Bob's skin.

The only warning I had was a deep growl. Bob surprised me by yanking on the two handfuls he had of my robe, but as soon as his lips crushed against mine, my libido bashed my rational side over the head and insisted on dragging Bob back to my cave for a good, long time. It felt good to have him in my arms, the way I've wanted to for years and never realistically thought would happen. Bob started fighting dirty by sucking on my tongue, but even as he kissed me, the way his hands let go of my robe and traveled southward, I could feel my rational mind clearing its throat and reminding me that there was actually a good reason for me not to be kissing him. There's not a lot of people in the world that I trust, and when one of them lies to me, it's something I tend to notice, no matter how good they are at making my libido stand up and say hello.

My mind annoyingly clear, I reached down and kept his hips in place with both hands. He groaned into the kiss, his lips buzzing against mine, and when we finally surfaced, both of us were breathing hard, and Bob's cheeks were red.

"It's not going to kill me to wear this," I pointed out, my voice huskier than I was expecting.

Bob blinked a few times, and I could see his attention coming back. "Harry."

"I'm not wearing that suit," I said firmly. "And the next time you think you can distract me by kissing me, think again."

Bob looked surprised, and when he realized just where his hands were, he cleared his throat and backed away a few steps. "That wasn't a distraction," he said stiffly.

"What was it?" I asked, not believing him for a second.

He thought about it for a moment before he said, "Think of it as years of pent-up frustration over your pigheadedness."

I snorted. "Let me go find my keys, and we can hit the road. Is it at the convention center?"

"Yes, it is, and here are your keys," Bob said, depositing the keys in my hand before offering me my staff. "Do you know how to get there?"

"We'll be fine," I replied, taking the staff from him before heading outside and locking up behind us.

The drive to the convention center was smooth sailing, compared to how the day had been going so far, and pretty soon, I was pulling the Jeep into the parking garage. There weren't any other cars that I could see, but it never hurt to be on the lookout for trouble. I don't know how the two of us looked, walking side by side, but I'm pretty sure Bob looked more impressive. I tend to look more gawky than menacing, and the hockey stick I made into a staff didn't really make me look anymore intimidating. Bob, unarmed and wearing a lot more leather than usual, looked like he was ready to kick ass and take names.

The convention center hadn't changed much since the last time I was here. The strips of carpet muffled our footsteps, and the high, arched ceilings showed off just how large the place was. I couldn't hear the rush of air coming from any air vents, and while the building was warmer than it was outside, it could've been a little warmer. And as I expected, the lights weren't on. I might the walking Murphy's Law to any technology I'm around, but get more than a few wizards in one place, and even things like electricity were going to foul up.

All of the double-doors leading into the theater were closed except for one set, where three men stood, two of them wearing Council robes and grey Warden cloaks. The third man was Ebenezar.

When he saw us approach, he broke off and joined us. "Hoss," he said with a nod to me. "Bob."

Bob nodded back to him. "Master McCoy. I hope all is well?"

Ebenezar snorted. "Well, even if it wasn't, it's about to get a lot more interesting. C'mon." He nodded toward the two Wardens, both of them guys I'd never met. One of them was a short blond, and the other with his dark hair neatly parted in a way that reminded me of spy movies.

"Names?" the taller one asked, looking us up and down lazily, even though I was pretty sure he didn't miss much.

I gave him mine, handed over my staff for inspection, and when the blond checked my chakra points with one of the pendants, it didn't glow. All very routine security when showing up to one of these meetings. The blond Warden waved me through, but I hung back, wondering what kind of reception Bob would get.

"Hrothbert of Bainbridge," Bob replied calmly.

The first Warden paused, frowning at Bob. "Sorry?"

Ebenezar rolled his eyes. "I'll assume you're not deaf. Yes, he's that Hrothbert of Bainbridge. Yes, he's actually standing right in front of you. And yes, he actually wants to go inside. He's not a threat, and if he turns out to be, I'm going to be taking care of it. Now, can we finish this up and go inside?"

"Master McCoy, I appreciate your ability to take care of any unpleasantness that might arise--" the dark-haired one began.

"Then you don't have anything to worry about, do you?" Ebenezar asked pointedly.

The blond Warden stepped forward, less visibly startled than his partner, and inspected Bob's chakra points. When the pendant didn't glow, he eyed the taller man. "He's clean."

The dark-haired one frowned suspiciously, but since he couldn't find anything wrong, he sighed and waved them through.

"Two down, a few hundred to go," I muttered as we headed inside.

The theater, like the rest of the building, didn't have any lights on, and the heat of a few hundred wizards kept the place from being too cold from the early winter weather that had started to sweep into Chicago. Candles and braziers lit the place, the light and shadow flickering on people, tables, and chairs. There were seven podiums on the stage, from what I could see, the center podium slightly taller than the rest. The circular tables around the room were filled with wizards talking in languages familiar and foreign, and I could feel the auras of hundreds of practitioners stretching out feelers, crashing and blending and flexing around each other, some melding together harmoniously, others crashing as they collided. Wardens stood in various spots around the room, their grey cloaks noticeable over their robes. [1]

Bob got more than his share of curious looks as he led the way through the crowd. When people realized who he was, and realized that he had to duck through the tables like Ebenezar and me, the conversation quickly picked up in hushed voices. Some of the wizards I saw grew tense when they saw Bob, but I was surprised by how few of them actually seemed to recognize him on sight. If we were lucky, there might not be that many wizards who knew exactly who Bob was. I wasn't sure if it would work in our favor, but it never hurt to have all the help we could get.

I leaned a bit closer to Ebenezar while dodging around another chair. "Why exactly didn't the Merlin want this to be a private meeting?"

Ebenezar raised a wispy eyebrow at me. "And miss the opportunity to scare the wits out of every single wizard here? If he plays his cards right, he wouldn't even have to order the Wardens to kill Bob on sight."

I felt my blood run cold as I thought of just how many people were here that could panic and turn on us. Wizards might be smarter than your average mortal, and have access to power that the man on the street doesn't, but they can get scared, especially of a necromancer who's been around, if not necessarily alive, for nearly a thousand years.

"But the vote's going to be reduced to the Senior Council, right?" I asked. Ebenezar didn't look at me. "Isn't it?"

"They're gonna try, but nothing's certain," Ebenezar said, still not looking at me.

I frowned at him, but apparently, Bob had found a free table, and was sitting down in a chair facing the stage. The table itself was close to the stage, but off to the side closest to the only double-doors leading out of the convention center. It was close enough to the Senior Council that Bob wouldn't have to shout from the back of the room, but at the same time, I didn't like our odds if we had to get out in a hurry. As I sat down, I wondered if that was what Bob had intended.

Ebenezar sat down to Bob's left and poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher that had been placed in the middle of the table. "You ready, Bob?"

Bob nodded, reaching into a pocket and pulling out a piece of paper he'd folded into thirds. "As I'll ever be, Master Blackstaff."

"Call me Ebenezar," Ebenezar grunted.

It might have been a trick of the light, but I thought I saw Bob smile a little. "Very well, Ebenezar." He poured himself a glass of water as well before adding, "I hope you realize that if you're given the order to kill me, I won't allow any harm to come to Harry."

Ebenezar nodded. "He's stubborn as hell, though. I'm going to have a fight on my hands one way or another."

"Hey, he's also sitting right here." I scowled at the two of them.

Bob turned to me, his eyebrows lifting in an innocent expression I didn't believe for a second. "Would you like some water, Harry?"

"No, thanks," I grunted, leaning forward a little to look at Ebenezar. "What's going on? What're we waiting for?"

"Them," he said, nodding at the stage. I looked up to see the members of the Senior Council enter from one of the backstage doors and take a podium. The Merlin, a tall man with flowing white hair, dressed in black Council robes with a rich purple stole over them, stepped up to the center podium. When he spoke, his voice was rolling and deep, with an air of authority that made the crowd's conversations die down. Latin flowed from his lips naturally, and I found myself glancing over at Bob. He noticed, and shot me a small smile before turning to watch the Merlin.

"Due to the recent developments that have necessitated our arrival here," the Merlin was saying in Latin, "I move to dispense with the usual formalities in order to discuss the most pertinent issue before us." His eyes, pale blue, zeroed in on our table, and at Bob specifically. "The resurrection of Hrothbert of Bainbridge." [2]

Any of the crowd who wasn't aware of Bob was aware of him now. Despite suddenly becoming the center of attention, Bob folded his hands in front of him and faced the Merlin calmly.

"All in favor?" the Merlin asked in Latin.

There was a rumble of agreement from the crowd, though the mood wasn't as murderous as it could've been. For all that Bob's told me that he's a cautionary tale to wizards about the hazards of playing with necromancy, there didn't seem to be a lot of wizards who knew him enough to want his head on a pike.

"I beg your pardon," one of the wizards standing at the podiums, a man who looked more like an average-sized skeleton than a person, spoke in a rich, smooth voice. His face was gaunt, with eyes that looked almost like tennis balls, and cheekbones that looked sharp enough to cut something. The fact that he was also completely hairless didn't help his overall appearance. "While I am familiar with Hrothbert of Bainbridge and his crimes, honored Merlin, I fear that the majority of the Council is not aware of them. Who is this criminal that we needed to convene an emergency meeting to discuss his fate?" [3]

The murmur from the crowd this time played right into the Merlin's hands. The Merlin nodded his thanks, and then turned to another wizard, this one prim in his robes and scarlet stole. "Wizard Peabody, would you consult the records and read the details of Hrothbert of Bainbridge's crimes to the Council?"

Peabody adjusted the spectacles on his face before reaching underneath him to a bulging satchel that had seen better centuries. He got a glazed look in his eyes and seemingly reached into it without looking before pulling out a sheaf of parchment tied with a black ribbon. Untying the ribbon carefully, he laid it open and began reading from the first page in a thin, reedy-sounding voice.

"In the year of Our Lord, twelve-hundred and seventy-one, Wizard Hrothbert, then a resident of the village of Bainbridge, was tried and found guilty of having committed the following offenses: Thirty-seven violations of the First Law of Magic against mortals. Thirty-seven violations of the Fifth Law of Magic."

I stared at Bob, feeling my skin crawl. I had seen the sea of faces that Bob had murdered in order to bring Winifred back from the dead, but hearing an actual number from the Council's records was something different. "Thirty-seven?" I whispered.

Bob continued to stare at the Merlin, his face expressionless. "Thirty-seven deaths the Council could prove," he murmured in a deceptively mild tone. "I got sloppier in hiding the physical evidence as time progressed."

On Bob's other side, I noticed Ebenezar's cheek twitch a little.

Peabody, apparently, wasn't finished. "Three violations of the Third Law of Magic, committed against duly-appointed Wardens during the course of a lawful investigation. Three violations of the Fourth Law of Magic, committed against duly-appointed Wardens during the course of a lawful investigation."

I glanced at Bob. Bob continued to stare straight at the Merlin. "They were prowling around my house. I needed to know what they had discovered. When I found out they knew nothing, I thought I could send them away, so that I could continue my work uninterrupted."

"Two violations of the Sixth Law of Magic," Peabody read on.

Bob would've tried anything to get her back, including trying to prevent her death in the first place. I knew that much from the soulgaze we'd shared a few days ago.

"Ten violations of the Second Law of Magic against mortals."

I frowned, a bit surprised by that one. The Second Law stated that no wizard would transform others. Transforming yourself was risky at best, because if, for example, a wizard turned himself into a mouse so that he could avoid being discovered somewhere he wasn't supposed to be, he risked losing his human intellect since the mouse's brain is a lot simpler than ours. Granted, there were a few Wardens I could argue wouldn't have to worry about it, but the ones I was thinking of probably weren't bright enough to figure out how to do it in the first place.

Bob whispered, "I thought that perhaps by transforming some of my victims into vessels capable of storing energy, less energy would be lost in the process and the effect would last longer than by simply using a person untouched by magic."

"Five violations of the First Law of Magic against Wardens, committed while evading capture," Peabody continued. "Seven violations of the Fourth Law of Magic against Wardens, committed while evading capture. Six violations of the Fourth Law of Magic against mortals, committed while evading capture."

Peabody's voice droned on, each sentence ending with 'committed while evading capture'. I could only sit there and fight the urge to throw up. Apparently, when Bob had finally been captured, he'd put up one hell of a fight.

Bob's jaw tightened. "I told you I was too far gone, Harry," he whispered, not looking at me.

"The sentence, having been carried out immediately by Captain Aelfric of the Wardens, was death by beheading," Peabody read on. "Through sanctioned ritual, the condemned's soul was bound to his skull, for the purpose of enforced servitude to forthright and responsible members of the High Council who prove themselves to be experienced and proficient in the Art so as to understand the nature of the condemned's crimes and see that the condemned is treated in a manner befitting his actions."

Forthright and responsible. Bob had said those words to me years ago, when I'd first become the guardian of his skull. Bob had been quoting his own death sentence.

I didn't realize how hard I'd been clenching my hands into fists until Bob laid a hand over mine and growled, "Stop."

The pain hit me a second later, and I used it to fuel the anger that had taken up residence in the pit of my stomach. I wanted to hit something really hard.

"Sit down, Harry," Bob whispered, sharp and fast, "and be silent. Please."

"Thank you, Wizard Peabody," the Merlin said, the Latin rippling off his tongue. I could tell he wanted to smirk, but instead, he gave the rest of the assembled wizards a hint of a smile. "Given the heinous nature of Hrothbert of Bainbridge's crimes, I move that we reinstate the previous sentence and return this warlock to the prison he so richly deserves." He turned to the assembled wizards and raised both eyebrows. "All in favor?"

I clenched my teeth, breathing in deeply, some quasi-Latin phrases coming to mind. First, I had to raise a shield around me and Bob. My eyes picked out a Warden who was tensing up, his hand straying towards the sword at his hip.

"If you'll pardon the interruption, Honored Merlin," Simon spoke up from his podium, his accent giving the words added weight. I could see him eying me and Bob. "Don't you think the verdict is a little... much? After all, this is not 1271."

"Harry," Bob's voice, low and quick, cut through the haze of planning, trying to figure out how far away people were to our relative position. "Harry. I need you to listen to me. Can you do that?"

The walking skeleton spoke again, his eyes looking even wider in shock. "Surely, you heard the charges brought against this... warlock?" He gestured at Bob, and the hand still over my fist squeezed hard. "I counted more than one hundred Laws that this fugitive broke, and you think we should be lenient?"

"We will survive this, Harry," Bob whispered. "But first, you need to calm down, and let the Council talk. Throwing magic around isn't going to help anyone."

Simon shook his head. "I am not saying we should be lenient, LaFortier. I am saying that not all the wizards present know all the facts." He arched a black eyebrow at LaFortier. "There is more to this man than the charges brought against him."

"I know you want to lash out," Bob whispered, his thumb stroking the top of my wrist slowly. "But that won't help me. Let them talk. We'll have an opening, and then we can exploit it."

I ground my teeth. "Bob--"

"Be that as it may, gentlemen," the Merlin said sharply, looking pissed off that somebody had decided to take away his dramatic announcement from him. "We cannot allow this situation to continue unchecked."

If there was one way to push my buttons, that was it.

"Hoss," Ebenezar said evenly, not even looking at me. "Simon's already opened the door. Mattie's going to pick it up."

"No, we cannot," Martha spoke up, right on cue. "Considering that the majority of the records about Hrothbert of Bainbridge are only available to the Senior Council, it would be irresponsible to ask the assembled wizards here to pass judgment on a 'situation'," She shot the Merlin an even look, "that they cannot know all the details of. We know that your reputation for honesty and integrity is well-earned, Honored Merlin. Therefore, we ask that the vote be reduced to the Senior Council, so that those who are well-informed may make the best possible decision about this matter."

I could see the muscles in the Merlin's jaw tightening. He'd just gotten the decision taken out of his hands. I felt a little thrill of satisfaction at that.

"I thank you for your wisdom, Wizard Liberty," he said, his deep voice deceptively even. "And while you were not asked to give your opinion, your advice is sound. Gathered wizards, we shall adjourn so that we may discuss this matter in private."

"Surely," Ancient Mai spoke up, her voice almost a purr that felt like fingernails scraping down my spine, "you don't mean to impugn the integrity of this Council further, Merlin? Meetings conducted in secret always leave whispers in their wake."

I looked at her, only to find that there was a hint of a smirk on her lips as she watched the Merlin. Part of me wanted to wipe that smirk off her face, and part of me couldn't help but wonder how helping us would help her.

"If we are to discuss matters which our fellow wizards do not know all of the facts concerning," the Merlin said stiffly, "it would behoove us to adjourn elsewhere so that we can speak on these matters at will."

"If I may speak," Listens-to-Wind said. He waited for the Merlin to turn and acknowledge him before continuing. "The best secrets are ones that are not kept. While the assembled wizards here do not know the facts about this wizard, what will happen to him will affect them as well. If he is to be returned to his previous sentence, all wizards will know of our justice. If he is to live, then they will want to know so they will be prepared should he fall to evil ways again."

The Merlin's eyes narrowed, but he collected himself quickly enough. "I see your meaning, Wizard Listens-to-Wind." For a moment, he glanced at our table. At Bob. At me. "After all, if we allow the accused to live, despite his crimes, he will fall into old habits. The Black is impossible to resist, and the accused had a vicious temper before he was brought to justice."

I could hear Bob murmuring to me, saying something, his thumb stroking the back of my hand, but it felt far away. The Merlin's blue eyes, afraid to meet mine, were staring at me.

His lips, thin and pale, spoke. "If he is allowed to live, he will kill again, and then no one, mortal or wizard, will be safe from him. He has driven forthright and responsible guardians to insanity, even to suicide."

"Harry," Bob whispered in my ear. "I need you safe."

"Funny that you should mention that, Merlin," Ebenezar spoke up, his voice suddenly loud enough to make me jerk back in my seat. "Weren't you yourself his guardian once upon a time? Once when his master had been killed, and again when you needed information from him about how to defeat a warlock?"

I felt a room full of eyes focus on our table.

The Merlin's eyes turned from me, focusing on Ebenezar. "I do not recall giving you the floor, Wizard McCoy."

"I still got it, don't I?" Ebenezar grinned, his teeth a flash of white in the light of the braziers. "If Hrothbert's so evil, how'd you resist the lure of the Black? Ancient Mai watched over him once, too, if I recall correctly."

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Ancient Mai wasn't happy at the reminder.

I turned to look at Bob, my teeth clenching again. "She had your skull?"

"Briefly," Bob whispered, staring me in the eye. I could imagine Mai, walking around him in circles, laughing at how the tables had turned. She had been forced away from a free meal, and then the tables had turned in her favor. I closed my eyes for a moment, and tried not to imagine how lovely Mai would look being burned alive.

"The accused's talent for making empty promises is known among his former masters, Wizard McCoy," the Merlin answered calmly. "As is his talent for breaking down the mental safeguards of those he comes into contact with. Regrettably, some of his former masters could not withstand his forceful personality, for whatever reason. Considering my own dealings with the accused, I am in a position to best understand his motives."

I narrowed my eyes at the Merlin. He had no idea of what Bob was capable of. He didn't look like he'd seen into Bob's soul like I had, knew the things I knew. The Merlin was just a vengeful bastard who looked like he wanted to get back at Bob for something. Maybe for Bob trying to defend me when I'd murdered my uncle in self-defense.

"And what about Harry?" Ebenezar asked, pointing a finger at me casually. "He's had the skull in his possession for the past six years, and before that, he was exposed to Hrothbert's influence when Justin Morningway was the skull's guardian. He doesn't seem to have turned evil, unless saving the world from the disciples of Kemmler, a rampaging werewolf, and a warlock using storms to murder people counts as evil."

The Merlin's eyes glittered. "Wizard Morningway was a responsible guardian, and yet, Wizard Dresden was brought to trial concerning his uncle's murder. Is that the recommendation you are presenting before this Council, Wizard McCoy?"

I could feel my blood burning in my veins. The Merlin was fighting this tooth and nail to get Bob dead, no ifs, ands, or buts, and I had to sit here and listen to his crap instead of doing something about it.

"Wizard Dresden was cleared of those charges, Honored Merlin," Martha Liberty spoke up. "As I'm sure you remember, it was ruled as self-defense."

The Merlin turned to address her. "I am aware of the Council's rulings, Wizard Liberty," he said firmly. "Given Wizard Dresden's history with the accused, he can hardly provide an unbiased opinion."

"Then would it not be prudent for you to abstain from the vote, Honored Merlin?" Ancient Mai asked mildly. "After all, Wizard Dresden would be too biased for the accused, and you would be biased against him."

"Unlike Wizard Dresden, I have never broken any of the Laws of Magic," the Merlin said, his tone just as mild.

"With testimony coming such a questionable source," LaFortier added, giving me a look like I had been something he'd tried to scrape off the bottom of his shoe, "it would hardly carry the same weight as the word of a tried and true Senior Council member."

The Merlin nodded to him before turning to the other Senior Council members. "Are there any other objections before we proceed to the vote?"

"Surely, you would give the accused his chance to speak?" Simon asked, glancing at our table before looking at the Merlin. "In my country, it is guilty until proven innocent, but the accused is still given a chance to try to defend himself."

The Merlin turned to him with a raised eyebrow. "The accused has already been convicted of breaking the Laws of Magic on multiple occasions, Wizard Pietrovich. We are deciding whether he should return to the original sentence." He looked at Bob, his eyes narrowing. "Or if it would be more prudent to remove the threat of his presence more... permanently."

My mind was racing. Given how quiet the room had gotten, I started thinking about how to shield Bob and myself. I saw the muscles in Ebenezar's hand tighten around his staff, and I found myself debating if I should hit him with a bolt of flame, or just enough force to push him away from us. My shield bracelet was good, but it was just designed for one person. I'd have to find some way to use it and myself to keep Bob from absorbing too much of the damage. With our table close to the stage and away from the double-doors at the back, we'd have to make our way through the crowd, deal with the idea of being in the middle of a mob.

And there were the Wardens, complete with very sharp, very shiny swords that were rumored to be able to cut through spells.

I felt Bob's hand on mine, and before I could stop myself, my other hand unclenched enough to snap around his wrist. I needed to be able to pull him out of his seat, get him close enough to me.

"Personally, I want to hear what the accused can offer us," Ancient Mai said, her voice loud and clear. My nerves jangled, making my thoughts a bit fuzzy before the panic set back in again. "Due to Captain Luccio's unusual circumstances, Hrothbert of Bainbridge might be in a position to offer us some insight."

I felt a tug on the hand I had locked around Bob's wrist. "Harry."

The Merlin turned to her, eyes still narrowed.

"Harry...." came Bob's whisper.

"Or did you think he was a warlock all his life before he was brought to justice?" Ancient Mai asked mildly, an eyebrow arching.

I heard Bob clear his throat, and he rose from his seat, his wrist still held in my white-knuckled grip. He looked at me for a moment before he very calmly reached down and removed my hand as if I had been barely touching him. He squeezed it for a moment, and then straightened to his full height. He looked at the Merlin, his eyebrows lifted.

The Merlin noticed, and with a look that would have caused crops to wither and cattle to die, he nodded once. "You may speak."

Bob nodded in return, and addressed the seven Senior Council members. "Ladies and gentlemen of the High Council, I am Hrothbert of Bainbridge. I stand before you today not to seek forgiveness for past crimes, but to offer you an opportunity. As the honored Ancient Mai has stated, I was not always a necromancer."

"That much is obvious," Ancient Mai sneered.

Bob visibly bristled, but he tamped it down quickly. "Despite the reasons for my... enforced retirement, I am still in a position to help the Council."

Simon's eyes narrowed. "How?"

"I had been trained as a blacksmith, both mundane and magical, Master Pietrovich," Bob answered him directly. "Captain Luccio's circumstances are known to me, and while it is unfortunate that her abilities have suffered due to her new physical form, I can offer her training so that she may resume her full duties as the Captain of the Wardens."

"There are others just as qualified as Captain Luccio," LaFortier declared, just barely sneering at Bob. "And not as incapacitated as she is."

"With all due respect, Master LaFortier," Bob replied, the bastard's name rolling off his tongue with more grace than the man himself had, "I had been given to understand that with her knowledge and experience, she is the best suited to the position. She has not been removed, as far as I know, and the only thing stopping her from continuing in her duties is her diminished capacity to forge weaponry that the Wardens might use in the execution of their duties. I would like to offer my knowledge of blacksmithing so that she may continue to lead the Wardens in keeping us safe from those that would undermine the integrity of this Council as well as threaten its existence."

"You're not doing this out of the goodness of your heart," Martha Liberty pointed out.

Bob smiled a little. "Of course not, Master Liberty. I've grown rather fond of living."

There was a murmur of laughter at that, but I barely registered it.

The Merlin's eyes flashed. "You would be able to pass on your knowledge of blacksmithing to Captain Luccio if we were to return you to your original sentence."

"With all due respect, Honored Merlin, I couldn't," Bob answered. "Blacksmithing is a physical skill that requires a master to be present until the student has learned enough to be left on their own. Spell-forging is even more intensive, due to the magical energies involved in the process. If I were to become Captain Luccio's teacher, I would need to be present in each phase of her re-training, as it were, to ensure that nothing unexpected were to happen to her."

"And if we allowed you to remain alive," LaFortier spoke up, "what guarantee would we have that 'nothing unexpected' would happen to Captain Luccio under your watchful eye? You would be in a very unique position to ransom our Captain to us whenever you feel we've displeased you." He turned to the Merlin. "This warlock should not be allowed to live, let alone be put in a position to cripple us."

Bob shook his head. "I have no guarantee, Master LaFortier. I myself have scars from accidents I suffered as an apprentice. I can only promise that Captain Luccio will not suffer by my hand while she learns from me."

"You've made empty promises before, warlock," the Merlin said sharply. "Do not expect this Council to be duped so easily by your silver tongue."

That was the last straw. I'd had enough of the Merlin talking about Bob like he was a thing instead of a person, but for him to lie about Bob trying to pull one over on the Council when he was trying to offer help pissed me off to no end. I didn't realize that I'd slammed my fist down on the table until the Senior Council members turned on me.

Before I knew it, I was standing up and yelling in English, "Are you stupid, or is your head really that far up your ass?"

The Merlin looked like Christmas had just come early. "I'm sorry?" he asked. In Latin.

A large hand landed on my shoulder. "Harry."

I tried to shrug off the grip, still glaring at the Merlin. "He's trying to offer you a way out from having to replace your own freaking Captain, and you're going to accuse him of lying? His freaking life is on the line!"

"Hoss," Ebenezar snapped. "Sit. Down."

"Clearly, Wizard Dresden has taken leave of his senses," LaFortier sneered in Latin, and I started seeing red.

"Harry, you're not helping me," Bob murmured. "Sit down."

I glared at Bob, but did as he said. "They want insurance, right?" I looked at Ebenezar. My mind was blurring through possibilities of how to get Bob out of here alive. "Tell them to put the Doom on me. Bob goes evil, I get to die."

"No," Bob snapped, staring daggers at me.

I looked up at him. "They're getting ready to execute you," I snarled, trying to keep my voice down.

"Wizard Dresden," the Merlin spoke out clearly. "If you interrupt these proceedings with another emotional outburst, I will have you removed from this meeting hall."

I clenched my teeth and nodded once, imagining what the Merlin's face would look like after I'd slammed it against a wall a few times. Probably not a safe thought to have right now, but it was better than actually jumping up and following through with it. "Tell them, Ebenezar."

Ebenezar sighed, and cleared his throat. "If it pleases the Council, Wizard Dresden regrets his outburst, but would like to make an offer to this Council, as proof of Wizard Bainbridge's good faith."

Martha, Listens-to-Wind, and Simon looked varying shades of surprised and worried. Ancient Mai's eyes narrowed. The Merlin and LaFortier looked like they were ready to smirk. The Gatekeeper continued to look mysterious.

"What is this proposal, Wizard McCoy?" Martha Liberty asked, sounding like she was trying to give Ebenezar an out.

"If you're so concerned about Hrothbert turning evil again, why not put Harry under the Doom of Damocles? And before you start asking questions about whether Hrothbert gives a damn about Harry, I'd like to remind you that I made a report to the Council after Justin Morningway's supposed return from the dead, which I know all of you heard." Ebenezar sat back in his chair, looking casual, but keeping an eye on the Senior Council.

Ancient Mai snorted. "The reason Hrothbert was sentenced to his skull for eternity was because his lover had been killed. Are you saying that Wizard Dresden means as much to Hrothbert?"

My heart jumped into my throat. I hadn't had time to talk to Bob about where exactly our relationship stood, but if the Council thought we were lovers, Bob could be in even more danger than he was now. Hell's bells, we both would, if the Council tried to manipulate us.

Ebenezar shrugged. "I don't know, but Hrothbert had been Wizard Dresden's teacher when Harry was a kid. Even if the education was half-assed--" At this, he shot a look at Bob before turning back to the Council. "--there's still a bond between master and student that you can't just ignore."

Bob nodded. "Just as I would not willingly harm Captain Luccio, I would not allow any harm to come to Harry." He looked at the Merlin. "From any quarter."

"That alone is insufficient," LaFortier shook his head. I wanted to wipe that smirk off his face. "You could allow your former student to be killed, only to resurrect him when it suited you."

"Perhaps if Hrothbert were to be put under the Doom as well?" Ancient Mai asked, her lips pursed. "Hrothbert would be unlikely to commit evil if his life was on the line as well. And if we stated that his Doom would be to complete non-existence, and not a return to his original sentence, that would be more of a deterrent."

The Merlin thought about this before slowly nodding. "This would be acceptable. If any evil were committed by either Wizard Dresden or the accused, the Doom would fall on both of them."

"Wizard Dresden has not acted in a way that would warrant the use of the Doom upon him," Listens-to-Wind said, looking calm on the surface. His tone was a different story. "He was cleared of the charge of murdering his uncle, and has acted in the Council's best interests since then."

"Once a man has been tempted by the Black," LaFortier declared, "he will be lured again. While he was 'acting in our best interests', he used questionable means to do so. If he wants to place himself under the Doom for his former teacher, let him. If he wants to court the Black, then let him accept the consequences."

The Merlin nodded. "It is only fair that if both wizards are subject to the Doom, the actions of both men should be subject to scrutiny."

Bob exhaled slowly through his nose. "We're going to talk about this."

"No, we're not," I said in just as low a voice. I reached over and patted his hand before covering it with mine.

Bob stood up again, clearing his throat. "Honored members of the Senior Council, while you are considering my fate, may I know what my situation will be if I were to remain alive by your good graces?"

Ancient Mai's eyes narrowed, but it was Simon Pietrovich who spoke.

"I'm assuming by your question that you have a list of demands?" he asked, his eyebrows lowering.

Bob shook his head. "Stated preferences, Master Pietrovich. I'm certainly open to suggestions." He turned to the Merlin, his eyebrows lifting as he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. "With your permission, honored Merlin?"

The Merlin looked mad enough to chew nails and spit out paper clips. When he spoke, he sounded like Bob had asked something very reasonable. "Continue, wizard."

Bob nodded, adding a bit of a bow to the Merlin before turning to the Senior Council as a whole. "My needs are simple. I humbly request full access to a fully-stocked forge of sufficient size and quality -- with an adequate, up-to-date insurance policy -- within a one-hour distance of the city of Chicago. Second, I want my choice of lodgings, with a stipend adequate enough and adjusted for inflation so that I may pay my rent, have food, and enjoy other basic necessities needed to live by modern standards. Third, I want the ability to teach Captain Luccio and any others who wish to learn from me in a manner of my choosing, without interference from an outside party. The one requirement I have is that I be given enough time to teach Captain Luccio all that I know. It has been my experience that apprentices learn at different rates. Once I have evaluated Captain Luccio's skills, I can better give a timetable as to when her training will end, should the Senior Council wish to know. When Captain Luccio is no longer my apprentice, I will submit to the Council's judgment as to whether I will continue to live or be returned to my original sentence."

I stared at Bob, my blood turning into ice at that last sentence. Hell's bells, what was Bob doing?

On the other side of Bob, I saw Ebenezar frown for a moment, and then start smirking.

Simon Pietrovich leaned forward on his podium, his eyes narrowing at Bob. "You ask much for a man who is in little position to bargain."

"I merely ask for what I would have were I practicing my craft as a free man, Master Pietrovich," Bob replied. "As I said before, I am more than willing to negotiate my terms."

LaFortier gave Bob a hard look. "You expect us to believe you will tell the truth when our esteemed captain's education will finish?"

Bob visibly checked a sigh, and nodded. "I gain nothing by lying. The Council would be more than capable of eliminating me should I prove uncooperative."

The Merlin bristled. "Unlike the Council of your day, Wizard Bainbridge, we do not attack members of the High Council without due cause."

"My apologies, honored Merlin," Bob said with a small bow. I saw him hide a smile before he straightened back up. "I learned at a young age that the High Council was omnipotent. I apologize for the error."

Ebenezar chuckled before he covered it with a cough.

Ancient Mai, who'd been chewing over what Bob had said in silence, finally spoke up. "The bond between master and apprentice is strong, wizard. When you say that you will submit yourself to our justice when she is no longer your apprentice, will she have to die first?"

The Merlin and LaFortier immediately glanced at Ancient Mai. Martha Liberty, on the other hand, looked like she had been expecting Mai to say something.

I glanced at Bob just in time to see his jaw tighten. He hadn't been expecting that. "That will be unnecessary, Ancient Mai," he said smoothly, folding the paper again and tucking it back into his pocket. "While the best masters consider themselves to be apprentices with years of experience, I mean that when Captain Luccio can learn nothing more from me, her apprenticeship to me will end."

"First, you expect us to think that her apprenticeship will last as long as she is alive, and now you expect us to sit by and allow you to hide behind Captain Luccio's apprenticeship indefinitely?" LaFortier demanded, turning to the Merlin. "Honored Merlin--"

The Merlin turned steely eyes on Bob. "No more word games, warlock. You are not going to have any say in the length of Captain Luccio's apprenticeship."

Bob raised an eyebrow, and I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. "Forgive me, honored Merlin, but even you must admit it is highly unorthodox to not allow the master any input on his apprentice's training and progress."

I glanced over at Bob. What the hell was he doing? He was going to let the Council dictate how long he would stay alive? He glanced at me for a moment, and one corner of his mouth curled into a smile.

Only I could've managed to fall in love with the craziest man in the world. And considering some of the stuff I've done before? That's saying something.

The Merlin's jaw quivered with tension, but Bob kept going.

"But, if that is one of the Council's stipulations, I am forced to accept such a condition," Bob said calmly.

"You will not take any more apprentices outside of Captain Luccio," the Merlin ordered. "After all, we would not want your valuable time to be divided among students when you should be concentrating your efforts on the esteemed captain's resumption of her duties."

Bob nodded. "Taking on apprentices can be exhausting work, honored Merlin. I had merely mentioned the possibility should I be allowed to remain alive after Captain Luccio's apprenticeship ended." He gave the Merlin a polite look, eyebrows lifting. "Are there any other conditions you wish to impose? I am primarily concerned about my lodging and the forge."

"We shall have to see what can be done about the forge," the Merlin said grudgingly. "But why wouldn't you be able to lodge there? It would certainly make the commute more tolerable."

"Do you plan for him to forge his own chains, honored Merlin?" Listens-to-Wind asked mildly.

The Merlin looked surprised at the question, turning to the Native American. "What do you mean by your question, Listens-to-Wind?"

"I meant what I asked, honored Merlin," he said, smiling a little. "I do not know the ways of working with the earth, but I know the most powerful creations are labors of love, not the work of slaves." He looked at Bob steadily. "We do not know his craft, honored Merlin. The one who is most familiar with it cannot use her knowledge fully. Hrothbert of Bainbridge committed great evils when he last lived, but we need his help now. I do not see why he cannot have the rest of what he asks. The Wardens are paid for their service to the Council."

"The Wardens are also upstanding wizards who have pledged to protect and serve the High Council until they are no longer able," LaFortier objected. "This warlock has made no such pledge."

"Nor should he," Martha remarked. "We are essentially negotiating his terms of employment, not his lifelong oath to serve the Council."

On the surface, Bob looked mildly surprised by the new development. But there was a look in his eye, a hint of a smile. If Bob hadn't been planning this, he sure as hell had been hoping it would happen. He must have noticed I was watching him, because he looked at me and winked.

"His employment?" LaFortier scoffed. "If we were negotiating his employment, being allowed to keep his life should be price enough for his services."

"Bob," I whispered.

"If you were paying attention, LaFortier," Simon said, his smile wide but his eyes narrow, "you would know that reminding Wizard Bainbridge of his situation would hardly be the best way to motivate him. Listens-to-Wind spoke the truth when he said we needed him. There are things lurking in shadows..."

Bob barely shook his head at me before looking back at the Senior Council. I followed his gaze, and found myself getting quickly confused again. As Bob would say, politics isn't something that I'm good at. Watching wizards who've been at it for hundreds of years was like watching armies on a field of battle, hacking away at each other, always countering each other's moves before they could strike.

"There are always things lurking in the shadows," Ancient Mai said, looking annoyed. LaFortier smiled, but then she added, "This time, we're right to be cautious. It won't always be so dangerous that we need the condemned to save us."

Bob and I traded a look at that. We had guessed that Mai had wanted Bob alive for her own reasons, but this was the second time I'd heard about something on the move, threatening the entire High Council. Things were pretty desperate if the Senior Council was considering letting Bob live, and now that the talk had turned away from method of execution and more toward compensating Bob for his time, I started getting worried.

If something was powerful enough that the Senior Council was getting worried, that meant things were going to get really dangerous, and soon.

I looked up at Bob again. I hadn't wanted to imagine Bob being executed by a Warden on the Council's say-so, and I definitely didn't want to think about him being in the line of fire when whatever monster showed up to threaten every wizard on the planet decided to detour through Chicago first. Knowing my luck, Chicago would be its first stop, and I would be right in the middle of it.

"Strike while the iron is hot," the Gatekeeper spoke for the first time since the meeting had commenced. The other six Senior Council members stopped, and turned to him.

"Gatekeeper?" the Merlin asked, frowning.

"Strike while the iron is hot," he repeated calmly, the voice emerging from his heavy cowl sounding English. "Now is the time we must make our decision."

Ancient Mai frowned at him, but then she nodded slowly, turning back to the Merlin. "We must vote now whether to keep the warlock alive, honored Merlin."

The Merlin looked surprised at Mai's agreement, and then his eyes narrowed. "Very well, Wizard Mai. Considering the history of this wizard," he declared, his deep voice resonating in the meeting hall as he turned to look at the assembled wizards before zeroing in on Bob, "I feel it would be grossly inappropriate to cater to this fugitive's whims and allow him, a warlock who has been tried and convicted of more than one hundred violations of the Laws of Magic, to walk free. While we are a more merciful Council than our predecessors, we still feel an obligation to uphold the wishes of those who came before us." He looked at the rest of the Senior Council pointedly. "I vote that not only should Hrothbert of Bainbridge be returned to his sentence, his existence is forfeit. We need no reminder of the creatures that haunt our nightmares. The wizards of today have learned our lesson from this monster's existence. Let us not say the High Council is not merciful."

I tensed in my seat, quasi-Latin springing to mind.

"It's only the first vote," Bob said gently. For a moment, I thought I saw his hand move toward me, but he left it at his side as he remained standing. Instead, I watched him incline his head politely to the Merlin, all the while wanting to disembowel the Merlin with a spork. The man was a sanctimonious jerk, and he sure as hell didn't deserve Bob bowing to him.

Simon spoke up next, his voice booming in the meeting hall. "I vote in favor of allowing Wizard Bainbridge to live." He nodded once. "Even if our Captain Luccio is not ready when the shadows move, we can still have someone to provide us with some kind of defense."

Bob inclined his head in a bow to Simon, but didn't respond.

"I agree with the honored Merlin, and vote against this warlock's continued existence," LaFortier snapped. "He has shown time and again that he will break the Laws when it suits him, and we have no safeguard against his deceptions."

Bob's eyes narrowed, but again, he nodded politely before looking at the rest of the Senior Council.

"I vote in favor of Wizard Bainbridge's life," Martha declared. "We need Captain Luccio's skill back if the Wardens are to continue functioning. If we have to give Wizard Bainbridge a few civil liberties in order to buy his cooperation, it's a small price to pay so that we are prepared for any threat that faces this Council."

"I second Wizard Liberty's vote," Listens-to-Wind said. "There are none who know the art of spell-forging as well as Wizard Bainbridge and Captain Luccio. We need his skill to face what lies ahead."

Bob hid a smile, and bowed his head politely to the two of them. It wasn't really any surprise that they would vote for Bob -- that's what the meeting at the diner had been about. The vote currently stood three-to-two, with two more waiting to bat. Bob only needed one more vote to stay alive, literally. And as much as I hated to think it, it looked like Ancient Mai was going to keep him from getting dead.

Ancient Mai glared at Bob for a long moment, and then looked back at the Merlin. "Honored Merlin, despite knowing the warlock as I do--"

"No," the Merlin said.

"Excuse me?" Mai asked, her eyes flashing red for a moment.

The Merlin shook his head. "You cannot be allowed to vote in this matter. It was due to your interference in Wizard Dresden's guardianship that the warlock is even alive in the first place, Ancient Mai."

Mai's eyes narrowed. "Just because I have a vested interest in this outcome isn't sufficient reason to deny me my vote, honored Merlin."

"I believe bringing your personal vendettas to this Council is more than sufficient, Ancient Mai," the Merlin declared, his eyes narrowing at her. "You acted without the Council's consent in order to return Hrothbert of Bainbridge to life. You have not broken any of the Laws of Magic, but you have come dangerously close to imperiling this Council as a whole."

Ancient Mai looked like she'd been slapped. If it weren't for the fact that Bob's life was now hanging in the balance, waiting on one last vote, I would have started laughing. She recovered quickly, drawing her haughtiness around her like a shield, her eyes narrowing. Finally, after a long silence, she nodded once. "Due to my vested interest in this outcome, honored Merlin, I must recuse myself."

After that challenge the two of them had traded, I couldn't say I was surprised. Ancient Mai always acted in her best interests, and for whatever reason, keeping Bob alive now worked for her. They weren't going to invite each other over for tea, but they needed each other, as much as I didn't want to think about it. Intellectually, I knew that.

But, something in Ancient Mai's eyes bothered me. I just wished I knew what it was.

A hush fell over the room as the rest of the Senior Council turned to the last member.

The Gatekeeper was a guy pretty close to my own height. Every time I had seen him, he'd always worn a heavy black robe, with the hood up. Like I said before, he sounded like he was English, but it could have been the cowl muffling his voice. As it was, his hood turned to the Merlin.

"The last vote falls to you, honored Gatekeeper," the Merlin said. "What is your vote?"

The Gatekeeper stood silent, not moving. Hell's bells, the man didn't look like he was even breathing.

The silence stretched.

"Honored Gatekeeper," the Merlin said, sounding annoyed. "What say you? Should Hrothbert of Bainbridge remain alive, or return to his sentence?"

Again, the Gatekeeper said nothing.

I could feel my muscles tensing, the adrenaline starting to give me more energy. The Gatekeeper had always been a mysterious guy. There was no way to know which way he was going to vote. I glanced at Ebenezar, but Ebenezar was staring at the Gatekeeper, just like everyone else in the room. Ebenezar was distracted. If everyone was too busy waiting for the Gatekeeper's vote, it could buy me some time if he decided to vote against Bob.

"Gatekeeper," the Merlin said again, his jaw tightening. "Need I remind you that Hrothbert of Bainbridge has broken the Sixth Law at least twice that this Council is aware of. He has shown a propensity for violence in pursuing his goals. Once he falls to the Black, he will need to be stopped, and the world can ill-afford another Kemmler."

I ground my teeth hard enough for my head to start pounding. Kemmler had been an amoral psychopath who'd been Bob's guardian before Justin had gotten his skull. I'd learned that from interrogating Bob before having to stop Kemmler's disciples from trying to become minor gods. Considering what award-winners Kemmler's disciples had been, and what little Bob didn't want to tell me about the man himself, I wasn't pleased that the Merlin was equating Bob with Kemmler.

"Harry..."

I looked up at Bob, who shook his head at me. "Bob."

"Just listen," he whispered.

The Gatekeeper still hadn't spoken.

"Honored Gatekeeper," the Merlin said, his voice sharp. "How do you vote?"

"I vote to preserve the Council, honored Merlin," the Gatekeeper said.

It's funny how your perception changes when adrenaline takes over. It felt like Time had stopped, that everyone was standing still. Bob stood next to me, staring at the Gatekeeper. Ebenezar had been leaning back in his seat, watching the Senior Council members. The Merlin had started to smile, his eyes flashing in victory. The people around us were watching, attention still on the stage. Ebenezar was going to be my biggest obstacle, and then there were the Wardens that were circulating throughout the room. I saw the flash of steel as a sword cleared its sheath out of the corner of my eye.

I needed to move fast.

The Merlin turned to the assembly, but then something happened.

The Gatekeeper kept talking.

"And so, I vote that Hrothbert of Bainbridge keep his life, until such time that the matter needs to be reconsidered."

I blinked. So did the Merlin.

The smile froze on his face, and then melted away to leave a faintly horrified expression that made me want to jump on the table and start dancing.

I looked at Bob. Bob blinked, and then looked down at me, his blue-green eyes wide.

"The vote stands at four to two, in favor of Wizard Bainbridge," Martha Liberty announced.

She said something else, but I was too busy staring at Bob to care.

He was alive. Hell's bells, we were alive.

The rest of the meeting went by in a blur, though it must have adjourned shortly afterward, because soon Bob and I were headed back to my Jeep, and I was helping Bob with his seatbelt.

I got in, started the car, and soon we were on the road. When Bob leaned back in the passenger seat and closed his eyes, his hair glowed in the sunlight.

***

I'd been numb for hours.

It's not that unusual for me to come home tired, hungry, and looking like I'd gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson, especially when I'd just finished working on a case. The conquering hero returning home to Spaghetti-Os and passing out for a few hours may not seem like a great reward, but it works for me.

This time, though, I wasn't sure what to do with myself.

Mister greeted me with his usual shoulder-block to my legs before sauntering out the front door to take on Chicago at large, and I stood there in the storefront. Light from the sunset filtered through the windows, painting the organized chaos of my desk in blues, purples and oranges. I really should clean it up some day, just to give the impression that I'm not too overworked to take on more cases, but given my usual clientèle, they're not really that concerned about the state of my desk.

I'd just survived a meeting with the High Council, came out of it relatively intact, and here I was, staring at my desk. Hell of a way to celebrate escaping the jaws of death.

"Harry?" Bob asked.

I turned to look at him, taking in the white hair, the blue-green eyes. "Yeah?" I said after a minute.

Bob frowned. "Are you all right?"

"I've just been put under the Doom of Damocles again," I said, not really noticing what I was saying, but just letting it all come out. "I have exactly thirty dollars to my name, I think my nose is starting to get stuffed up, and now I've got a roommate who redecorates without consulting me."

Bob blinked. "It can't be as bad as all that, can it?"

I thought about that for a moment, and then shook my head, smiling a little. "I don't think so."

Bob nodded slowly, and then added, "You're forgetting that the rent is due in five days." He heaved a sigh. "Alas, such is the life of wizards. I'm sure you'll bear up somehow." He reached out and patted my shoulder in what began as a sympathetic gesture, but turned soothing when he let his hand stay there.

Bob could touch me now.

I nodded, reaching up to cover his hand with mine, only to have him turn his wrist and squeeze my fingers.

"It's all right, Harry," Bob murmured, still smiling.

"I know." I moved in closer to him, removing his hand from my shoulder before sliding my arms around him and resting my chin on his shoulder. "Stars and stones, Bob."

Bob's arms wrapped around my shoulders, squeezing back just as firmly. "I know, Harry." A hand petted my hair. "I know."

I don't really hug people, but for Bob, I was willing to make an exception.

After a few minutes, I felt Bob loosen his grip on me, so I pulled back to look at him. "How's it feel to be alive?"

"I have not the words to describe it," Bob murmured before looking at me critically. "You look like you need to lay down."

"Aww, Mom," I whined. "I'm not tired."

Bob snorted. "While I'm hardly a paternal figure, I'm more than capable of putting you to bed." He kissed me on the cheek and nodded at the hallway leading to my living room. "I'm going to try my hand at making spaghetti, unless you have any other ideas."

"We could call for a pizza," I offered.

"And leave you with exactly five to ten dollars to your name, instead of thirty," Bob replied, looking at me askance. "There's perfectly good food here in the house, and I'm not actually that tired."

I frowned at him. "So I see. And why is that?"

Bob shrugged. "Unlike most wizards, I actually know what dying feels like. If things really did take a turn for the worse, nothing would have happened that I haven't already been through before, so there was no need to panic. My only real concern was making sure you survived the ordeal as well." He shot me a fondly annoyed look. "Letting the Merlin needle you isn't the best tactic for dealing with the Council."

I scowled. "It doesn't help that he's an arrogant asshole."

"Be that as it may," Bob said patiently, leading the way to the kitchen as he spoke, "Arthur Langtry has gotten to where he is today because of knowing his opponent's weaknesses. Your temper very nearly got you into trouble today."

"I told you before," I said, following him into the kitchen and taking a box of spaghetti out of the cupboard, "I wasn't about to just sit there and watch you get killed. It's a moot point now, anyway." I leaned a hip against the sink and watched him. "The Council didn't kill you, and the Doom will only drop if you break any of the Laws of Magic."

"I'm aware of how the Doom of Damocles works, Harry." Bob sighed, wandering through the kitchen and pulling out pots and ingredients almost absentmindedly. "What I'm objecting to is the fact that you weren't even alive when my original sentence was passed down, and now you're under the Doom as well as I if I were to use black magic."

"You said it yourself," I pointed out, a bit surprised to find myself trying to be the voice of reason for once. "The Council wasn't going to let you live without some kind of restriction. And since keeping you in a deep, dark hole away from prying eyes wasn't an option, they had to find some other way to keep you in line." I snorted. "Hell's bells, they did the same thing to me."

Bob looked at me over his shoulder while he filled the pot to boil the spaghetti in. "They didn't threaten the one person you treasured most, Harry," he said softly.

I folded my arms across my chest and watched him set the pot on the stove and turn on the burner. "Yes, they did."

Bob's eyes snapped to mine, frowning for a moment before realization dawned. "I was referring to when you underwent the Doom the first time, actually."

"Gee, I was referring to the second time," I snapped. "Bob, did you think I was kidding when I said that I love you? Do you seriously think that I could stand by and watch you be murdered? Unless you blanked out and missed the last few hours, I freaking volunteered to have the Doom put on me."

"Which doesn't say much for your sense of self-preservation," Bob snapped back.

"You must not have been paying attention all these years, or else you'd know how non-existent it is," I replied.

"That isn't something to brag about, Harry," Bob replied, turning from the stove to face me head-on. "Though, while we're on the subject, your quixotic crusades are going to get you killed someday, and if you think that I am going to stand by and watch you be murdered because you were following your personal code, you had better think again."

"You wouldn't give yourself over to black magic," I pointed out, grinning in my victory. "If you do, I'm dead."

"And have you ever considered the possibility of what would happen if you were dead already?" Bob asked in a slow, dangerous tone. "I've already given myself to over to darkness for someone I loved."

"You wouldn't," I said, my eyes narrowing. As much as I wanted to believe what I was saying, I knew that I was lying. When I'd soulgazed on Bob a few days ago, I'd seen him tear himself apart because of the loss of losing his first love. If he really cared as much for me as he had Winifred, Bob could turn into something scary. Pain made people look for alternatives, and black magic always promised quick returns for the amount of effort put into it. The only downside was that it consumed your soul in payment.

Bob didn't answer for a long time, and I could feel a shiver threaten to run down my spine at the look in his eyes.

"Would you?" I asked softly.

Bob turned back to the pot, reaching for the jar of spaghetti sauce. "I'm not sure," he admitted, not looking at me. He glanced up at my face for a moment before getting a good grip on the lid and twisting. He scowled at the jar, and tried again.

"Here," I said, holding my hand out. He gave me the jar, and I upended it, hitting the bottom with the heel of my hand before trying. The lid came loose with a satisfying pop, and I handed the jar back to Bob. "I might have, if they'd executed you," I admitted softly. It's not every day that you confess to being more than willing to murder a room full of wizards to make sure Bob got to live to see tomorrow.

Bob glanced at me again, and then he shook his head. "No, you wouldn't." He upended the jar into the sauce pot, and passed it back to me.

"How do you know? You were there when I killed my uncle." I filled the jar with some water, replaced the lid and shook it a few times to get all the sauce that hadn't come out. Then I opened it again and emptied it into the pot as well. "I used a voodoo doll to get that spirit out of Murphy. Who's to say that I won't turn to it again if they tried to kill you?"

"No matter what you may think of yourself, Harry, you are not a monster," Bob said simply, grabbing a wooden spoon from the dish strainer and stirring the sauce until it had a consistency more like a sauce instead of chunky paste. I could hear the kind of confidence in his voice that reminded me of guys who know they have the upper hand in a situation.

"And how do you know that?" I frowned.

Bob arched an eyebrow at me and looked singularly unimpressed. "You've certainly forgotten everything you've learned about soulgazes. Really, Harry, I do hope you're not suffering from senility at such a young age."

I blinked. "What?"

This time, Bob gave me one of his patient looks. "I tried to tell you what I'd seen when I looked upon your soul, but you didn't want to hear it." He turned back to the sauce, and stirred it a few times. "I won't deny that you have darkness inside you, but you're a good man because you acknowledge that part of you, and you use it to be better than what you perceive yourself to be. A weaker man would have blinded himself to the risks, taken refuge in the numbness it offered."

I knew, deep down, that Bob was talking about himself. It was strange to hear him talk about himself like I was some kind of role model to look up to, instead of a cautionary tale against the hazards of tilting at windmills. He gave me grief over the years about my impulse to do good, but I can't even say that I do it because it's the right thing to do. I mean, sure, I do, but the reason that I'd set up shop and hung my shingle out was because no one else was doing it. No one else was protecting people from things they didn't understand, no one was making sure innocent people didn't die.

"What was it you saw?" I asked. A large part of me didn't want to know what Bob had seen when he'd looked at my soul, because I didn't want to know what kind of symbolic manifestation the darkness inside of me took when Bob saw it. But a part of me needed to know just what it was that made Bob so damn sure that I was someone to believe in.

Bob raised an eyebrow at me. "Are you sure you want to know?"

"Would I be asking if I didn't?" I asked.

"You've shied away from the subject each time I've brought it up," Bob said, unearthing the spoon rest from the silverware drawer and setting the wooden spoon on it. He turned to me and folded his arms across his chest, looking curious and skeptical.

"Okay, fine, I don't want to ask, but tell me anyway," I said. "I seem to remember you mentioning a forest and fireflies."

Bob snorted, his lips pursed for a moment before he pulled out one of the chairs at the table and sat down. "You were traveling through the forest, actually, and you looked younger than you do now."

If there was something I was expecting, it wasn't that.

"That sounds fun."

"I thought you wanted to hear this?" Bob asked mildly.

"Fine, no more color commentary," I said. "What happened next?"

"There was no moon, no stars to see by," Bob said. "But there were small lights flying just ahead of you, guiding you along a dirt path."

"The fireflies you mentioned before?" I asked, turning down the temperature on the sauce to make sure it didn't burn before I sat down at the table across from Bob.

"I was actually a bit inaccurate in my description when I referred to them as fireflies," Bob admitted. "Though, if you've ever seen a green firefly, I should like to know when you've done so."

"Green?" I blinked. "How many were there?"

"A few," Bob said, resting his elbows on the table and steepling his fingers in front of him. Blue-green eyes watched me as he continued. "There was a brilliant white one that flew all over the place, lighting the darkness where it went. That one was obviously your Lieutenant Murphy."

I frowned, a bit confused. "What do you mean?"

"Each of them represented people that care about you, Harry," he explained gently. "There were two distant lights, both green, which I could only guess were your parents. A golden one amused itself by darting ahead into the woods, disappearing from sight, and then returning a little while later to lead the way."

I had to think about that one. "You?"

"Hardly," Bob snorted. "Ebenezar McCoy, I would imagine. He strikes me as the type to watch over you."

"You've watched over me too," I pointed out.

Bob shook his head, folding his arms on top of the table. "I've attempted to steer you away from darkness. Ebenezar would think that you need to walk through it, and as such, would lead the way so that you weren't hopelessly lost."

"Okay," I said slowly, thinking about it for a second before silently agreeing with him. "So, where were you?"

Bob looked down at the tabletop then, one of his fingernails picking at a nick I hadn't noticed before. He was quiet long enough to make me think he wasn't going to answer, but then he said, "I was cupped in your hands."

I blinked. "I would've thought you'd be flying around me, or lighting the way," I said curiously before a question occurred to me. "What color were you?"

"Bright blue," Bob answered, looking up at me.

"Blue for defense," I said.

"The symbolism wasn't lost on me," Bob acknowledged with a nod.

He fell silent again, but I knew he was holding something back. "What else did you see?" I asked, leaning forward and resting my own forearms on the table.

Bob exhaled through his nose slowly. "The blue light in your hands was so bright that if it were snuffed, you would be lost."

That was a pretty succinct way of putting it. It had been years since I'd tried to imagine Bob not being a part of my life anymore. It had gotten to the point now that trying to imagine it now felt like I was trying to rip my own arms off.

"Even with the other fireflies?" I asked, fairly sure of the answer. No one had meant as much to me as Bob did.

"Even so," Bob said softly.

Silence stretched between us before Bob stood and checked the sauce. With the water for the spaghetti bubbling away, I opened the box of spaghetti and dumped it in, stirring it with the spoon from the sauce to make sure all of it would boil.

"Harry?" Bob said, not looking at me as he turned down the heat on the sauce.

I raised both eyebrows at him. "Yeah?"

"What did you see?" he asked, glancing at me. "You had begun telling me before we were interrupted."

That had been a few days ago, right before I made a date with Heather Bram in an effort to try to move on with my life.

"Why do you want to know?" I asked. I tend to be the kind of guy who doesn't question why people have a tendency to faint or go pale when they look at my soul. Mostly because I really don't want to know what exactly I'm capable of. I already knew that I was capable of killing people and destruction of property. I didn't know what I was going to do if I ever found out just how far I was willing to go. Bob's description of the soulgaze had helped, somewhat, but I had noticed he hadn't mentioned anything about how far I would go for him or anyone else I cared about.

So, when Bob actually wanted to know what I'd seen instead of shying away from the subject, it surprised me.

Bob frowned, surprised at the question. "I recall telling you that I wanted to know."

"Yeah, but why do you want to know?" I pressed.

"Because I can't very well look at my own soul whenever I wish," he explained calmly. "Before my execution, soulgazes had acted as a personal barometer. Whether the person I gazed upon was an intended victim, or a loved one, or a dire enemy, I always wanted to know how I would measure in their eyes." He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. "One victim, a young man who was probably seventeen or eighteen years old at the time, described what he saw as a tailor who dismembered living people and then sewed together a lover from the harvested limbs. I'm sure that whatever you saw couldn't be worse than that."

I stared at him, the question slipping out before I could stop it. "Which victim was that?"

"The last one I was able to kill before the Wardens came to arrest me," he said. If Bob concentrated on stirring the noodles more than was necessary, neither of us said anything. He looked up from the pot, his eyes dull, his face carefully blank. "Tell me, Harry. Please."

I couldn't look into his eyes and refuse. Hell's bells, compared to being Pygmalion the Demon Tailor, seeing him burn to ashes and sacrifice himself totally would be a walk in the park.

So, I told him. When I was finished, Bob didn't speak.

I cleared my throat. "Well?"

"Well what?" Bob asked, arching an eyebrow at me.

"Are you ready to sew Galatea back together again?" I asked lightly.

He shook his head, glancing at a clock that I'd hung on the wall before fishing the colander out of the cabinet where I usually kept it. "Dinner is ready."

I resisted the urge to shake him, instead taking the sauce off the burner and stirring it a few more times. "Bob."

Bob drained the noodles and dumped them back in the pot again, followed by the sauce, and stirred it a little more vigorously than it needed. I was about to say something when he stopped, his lips pressed together in a thin line, and headed for the cabinet where the plates were. He took them out and wordlessly offered me one.

After a few minutes of serving ourselves and getting drinks, Bob with an instant coffee, I with a glass of Coke, we ended up staring at each other across the table, eating silently. Hell's bells, I could hear the clock in the living room ticking away, and that almost never happened unless I was having a bout of insomnia on a night when I didn't need to worry about the end of the world.

It took five more minutes of the unnerving silence until I finally said, "That was a cheap shot. Sorry."

Bob shook his head, holding up a hand to stop me so that he could finish swallowing. "You've no need to apologize. What you said is actually still true." He opened his mouth to say something, but sighed and examined his spaghetti intently. "I had hoped that I would be above falling to temptation again, and I'm disappointed with myself that I might not be as strong as I think I am."

"What do you mean?" I frowned.

"I mean that I love you, Harry," Bob said, his eyes meeting mine steadily. "And that if you were die, I might find myself turning to black magic to return you to me."

I smiled a little, waiting for the punchline. "Bob, you don't mean that."

Bob arched an eyebrow, looking at me like I was depriving a village somewhere of its idiot. "Harry, you just looked at my soul."

"Yeah, and I saw you incinerate yourself for Winifred," I replied. "She looked very pretty, by the way."

"Thank you." Bob nodded. "You told me yourself that you had seen a light in the darkness at the end of the soulgaze."

"Yeah, it was hope," I replied. "Bob, just because what I saw in your soul says one thing, it doesn't mean you're not going to be strong enough to resist using black magic again."

Bob rolled his eyes. "Harry, that light in the darkness wasn't just hope."

"Could've fooled me," I muttered, sipping some Coke.

"Do you know how incredibly difficult it is to feel anything as a ghost?" Bob demanded, setting his fork down. "And I don't mean tactile sensation. I mean actual emotion?"

I frowned. "You seemed capable enough when you were teaching me."

"I had more than nine hundred years of yearning to motivate me," Bob said. "The moment I saw you, home again after having traveled the world, wearing those ridiculously small jeans and that silly T-shirt, I felt something that I hadn't felt since I was alive. You gave me that gift, Harry. In that single moment, something changed, and it was as though I could see the world through new eyes. I had known of Justin's plans in the abstract for years, but when you discovered your father's ring in his possession, I wanted to keep you from being hurt and betrayed by what Justin had done."

"Is that what you were doing when I told you I loved you?" I snorted, feeling a familiar anger start to burn inside of me. "Trying to protect me from getting hurt?"

"Yes," Bob answered without hesitation.

"And it didn't occur to you that lying to me would hurt even more?" I knew that my voice was rising, but I didn't care.

"I hadn't anticipated that I would ever need to apologize," Bob said in a deceptively even tone, "as I'd assumed that I would remain in my prison indefinitely, and I would have to watch you die, whether it be from old age if you were lucky, or because you had gotten yourself killed because of your own need to see justice done."

"And now that you're alive?" I asked.

Bob smiled a little. "I'm in a better position to keep you alive. That is, if you don't mind having an extra pair of hands when you're working a potentially life-threatening case."

"What about the Council?" I asked. "Would you really piss them off just to save me?"

Bob snorted. "You were paying attention when the Senior Council agreed to my terms, weren't you? One of the conditions of my continued lifespan is that I make weapons for the Council, not heed their every beck and call." He smiled in a way that was both patient and a little mischievous. I have to admit that my libido started perking up at the sight of it. "Besides, making swords isn't that terribly difficult. If what Captain Luccio said about the progress bladesmithing technology has made since my last project is true, it might even go more smoothly than before."

For some reason, I couldn't stop myself from smiling.

"Harry," Bob said, reaching out a hand to cover mine. "I love you. I'm sorry that I hurt you before when I lied to you, though I can't promise it won't happen again. What I will promise, however, is that I will try my best to protect you from any threat that looms."

"How about you just watch my back?" I asked.

This time, Bob's smile was wicked, and his eyes twinkled. "Only your back, Harry? I can think of much more interesting things about you to watch than just your back."

No matter what Bob says, I didn't blush. My face might've gotten a little red, but that was because it was a little warm in the kitchen from the food. Really.

I cleared my throat. "Oh?" I licked my lips. "Like what?" I managed to ask. Some guys aren't good at flirting. I happen to be one of them.

One of Bob's long, slender fingers traced the edge of his coffee mug slowly. "I could talk about your eyes, if you'd like," he murmured, meeting my gaze. "We don't need to worry about a soulgaze, so I can admire how dark they are, how mysterious."

"Dark and mysterious?" I asked, leaning forward and resting my forearms on the table.

"I have a deep appreciation for the mysterious, Harry," Bob reminded me gently, his smile a little indulgent at the corners. "But now that you mention it, I think I'd rather watch your ass."

I blinked. "Sorry?"

Or, at least, that was what I wanted to do. Unfortunately, I'd taken another sip of my drink at that moment, and I did a classic spit-take, spraying Bob with Coca-Cola.

Bob blinked for a moment, looking more than a little surprised to find himself damp from soda, and then he started grinning.

I groaned, resting my forehead on my arms as my face got warmer.

And then the bastard started laughing. I heard his chair squeak on the linoleum floor, and when I looked up, I saw Bob wetting a dishrag and wiping his face with it, still chuckling away.

"Oh, Harry," Bob asked me, laughter still in his voice as he washed his hands. "Whatever would I do without you in my life?"

"Probably not get sprayed with Coke," I muttered, getting both of our plates and putting them in the sink. "Sorry."

"It's quite all right." Bob smiled.

"Not really," I pointed to where the Coke had gotten his shirt. "That's going to get sticky." And then I noticed a few drops where they'd landed on his neck. "And you missed a spot." Seized by sudden inspiration, I leaned in close and licked at the drops carefully, just to make sure I didn't miss anything. I could tell Bob appreciated the gesture when I felt the fingers of one hand weave into my hair, along with his soft gasp.

I kissed the skin gently before slowly pulling away. Bob let out an honest-to-God whimper that time, and when I could see his face, he didn't waste any time in kissing me deeply.

We surfaced for air a few minutes later, though Bob definitely looked like he didn't want to stop. I was able to gasp out, "Shirt," before he started nibbling on my lower lip.

"Mm, what was that?" Bob's question was half-garbled against my lips.

"Shirt," I said intelligently, my hands yanking off the leather vest he wore before grabbing two fistfuls of shirt and untucking it from his pants. He hadn't had time to change out of the outfit that Joseph-Listens-to-Wind had lent him, but at that point, I didn't care. The leather emphasized the power in his shoulders and arms, the dark tan contrasting against his pale skin. We stopped kissing long enough to wrestle the shirt off of him, panting loudly before we started kissing again, his teeth nipping at my lips while I concentrated on tasting his mouth.

A pair of hands grabbing my ass made me jump, and then Bob's dark laughter filled my ears, promising all kinds of delightful things just through the sheer suggestion in it. I thrust my hips against him out of pure instinct, only to find that I was grinding against his stomach. Damn height difference.

"I did say that I wanted to watch your ass," Bob purred at me, the words rolling around his tongue as though he were tasting them. His hands had squeezed once, and I groaned loudly.

"Bed," I groaned. "Now."

More dark laughter filled my ears. "I thought you'd never ask."

We managed a kind of weird half-walk, half-stumble towards the staircase leading up to the second floor, with a quick detour against a counter for a slow grind that had both of us moaning and short of breath.

I'm still not quite sure how we both made it up the stairs without tripping and nearly killing ourselves, given that the banister isn't that strong to begin with, but fairly soon, we were falling onto my bed, desperate enough to grind against each other while still wearing our pants. Bob got off of me and made quick work of my pants and boxers, tossing them somewhere before kissing me again, his hands running down my chest. When we needed to breathe, he pulled away, only to start attacking my neck with nibbles and kisses that had my head swimming with pleasure.

I managed to get a hand on his head, fingers running through the softness of his hair, and when he found one of my nipples, the attention he lavished on it made me moan loud enough that I wondered if what neighbors I had were going to complain about the noise. I must have been writhing, because Bob stopped long enough to pin my thighs to the bed with one of his legs.

"Patience, Harry," Bob purred, and I moaned louder. I sensed him pause for a second, and then I could almost feel the mischievous surprise in the air before he leaned down, his lips close to my ear. "My, my," he whispered. I felt fingers trace random designs on my chest, that, knowing Bob, weren't entirely random. One of my nipples got tweaked, causing my hips to buck uselessly into the air. "What is this delightful feast I see before me?"

I shivered and said something that sounded like, "Nhgflp."

"Do you know how you look right now?" Bob asked, his voice rich and dark, as though he'd looked through each of my favorite fantasies and recorded them himself. "The lines of your body..." He traced his fingers along the muscles in my chest. "The way your lips are parted just so..." A single finger touched my lips, feather-light. "The way your hair trails, ever so attractively, to the exciting parts..." The fingers were tracing around my navel, meandering down towards my erection, which had already started leaking, but veered away before his skin brushed against mine where I needed it.

I might have whimpered. Just a little.

"Temptation given mortal form," he purred, teeth tugging gently on my earlobe. "Truly."

I growled, and tried to reach for him, but he caught my wrists and pressed them against the sheets. "Ah ah ah, Harry." His voice managed to drop an octave somehow, making his purr sound rough and dangerous. "I'd rather not get distracted."

I gasped and threw my head back, squeezing my eyes shut against the sudden mental image of Bob above me, behind me, taking me as rough and hard as his voice sounded. If he didn't hurry up soon, I was going to embarrass myself before he'd even gotten around to actually touching me.

"Good boy," he murmured, brushing his lips against my ear before leaving a trail of kisses to my lips. Suddenly, he kissed me, hard and deep and fast. My head started spinning, and then he got a firm grip on me and squeezed. He jerked me off a few times before I finally felt it.

I yanked my lips away from his, shouting wordlessly as my orgasm hit like a freight train. Everything went white for a second, and then I passed out.

I didn't faint. Seriously.

I woke up to find Bob dragging my legs over until I was on the bed, instead of half-laying on it, which I was grateful for. I watched, a bit bemused, as he snapped the flannel sheet out and let it cover me before he slid between the sheets and moved close enough to me that I felt his hand rest on my stomach. I dislodged the blanket a little as I moved my hand down to cover his.

"How are you feeling?" Bob asked, his eyes glittering smugly as he looked at me.

"I'm all right, I guess," I replied, grinning a little at him. "Wow."

Bob snorted. "'Wow'?"

"Take it as a compliment." I snorted back, turning on my side and sliding a hand around his waist. That's when I noticed that he was still hard. "I knew there was something I was forgetting," I murmured, leaning in to kiss him while I let one of my hands make its way down to his erection.

Surprisingly, Bob squirmed before he grabbed my hand to stop me. "It's all right, Harry."

"Sure, because not having an orgasm makes a lot of sense," I snorted.

Bob shot me an annoyed look. "Really, Harry, with as much as I've been preoccupied with sex, don't you think that I haven't tried already?"

"What's wrong?" I frowned, reaching out to touch his cheek.

Bob's eyes fluttered closed. "I get... over-stimulated." He nuzzled my hand with a contented hum.

"Thin line between pleasure and pain?" I asked, watching him. The faint rasp of his five o'clock shadow felt good against my skin.

"Is even thinner, yes," Bob sighed, kissing my palm before sucking lightly. I clenched my teeth, feeling the twitch of interest run through me, but it was too soon to get it up a second time.

"Is there anything I can do?" I murmured, wanting to move in and kiss him deeply, but not wanting to stop Bob from licking my wrist.

Bob's eyes opened, the blue-green irises darker now. "Try not to move."

I would've said something about him asking for the moon next, but then he hadn't started sucking on one of my fingers. I could feel my spine starting to fuse with my melted brain, and the best I could manage was an affirmative noise. Bob, on the other hand, was happily humming and licking my captive finger like it was an ice cream cone in the middle of July.

I could tell the moment when things were shifting, pleasure turning into pain. He let my finger go with a wet, regretful kiss before sagging onto the pillow, his cheeks flushed and his eyes hazy.

"There has to be something we can do," I said firmly, ignoring the desire that was waking up despite the fact that I'd just had an orgasm a few minutes ago. "What've you tried?"

Bob sighed, looking frustrated. I couldn't say that I blamed him. "I've tried masturbating in the shower, on the bed, in the lab. I even tried using magic to provide stimulation, but nothing's worked thus far."

I had to remind myself that imagining Bob in the shower, water cascading down his pale skin, jerking himself off, wasn't helping. Or imagining him on the bed, for that matter.

"What about not touching yourself?" I managed, my voice rough.

"An orgasm on command?" Bob raised an eyebrow, even as he brushed my lips with his fingers. "If I were capable of that kind of control, I wouldn't have to worry about over-stimulation, would I?"

I closed my eyes and tried to breathe deeply. Unfortunately, my libido picked that time to provide me with a vision of Bob, flushed and panting, with me whispering in his ear while I kept his hips pinned against the kitchen counter. "Okay, so let's think of something else."

When I opened my eyes again, Bob was watching me with hooded eyes, his lips parted just enough that I could see his teeth. "What were you thinking?"

I shook my head, feeling my cheeks get hot. "Nothing that's going to help us right now."

"Oh, I don't know," Bob murmured, sitting up to plant his hands on the pillow on either side of my head. "Anything that can make you look like that would certainly be something worth pursuing."

He was doing that purring thing with his voice again, dammit. I tried not to blush harder. "Dirty-talking you into an orgasm in the kitchen isn't exactly going to help us."

Bob blinked, and then pursed his lips. "Especially since that we're not in the kitchen at the moment. The idea has merit, though."

"What?" I asked blankly.

Bob smirked, leaning down just enough to lick my lips very slowly. "Each time that I've attempted to have an orgasm, it's been through physical stimulation. We already know that my sense of touch is already over-sensitized, seeing as how I've acquired a habit of rubbing things with my hands."

"Is this going where I think it's going?" I asked weakly.

"If you mean do I want you to talk dirty to me, it's certainly worth a try," Bob's smile grew more affectionate. "Perhaps by stimulating another of my senses, I might be able to feel the pleasure without it shading into pain."

"Um, Bob? I'm not that good at it," I half-mumbled.

"Nonsense," Bob murmured. "You're creative enough when you put your mind to it, and you have a lovely voice."

"Have you heard me try before?" I asked, wondering if I'd been right all those years about him listening in whenever I brought a date home.

"I might have once or twice," Bob hedged, looking mischievous.

I started trying to think fast. It was bad enough that I was terrible at dirty-talk in general. If I tried it on Bob, I was pretty sure I was going to clam up, and that wouldn't have helped. "You said that stimulating a sense that wasn't touch would work, right? To distract you?"

"I believe so," Bob said slowly, shooting me a puzzled frown. "What do you have in mind?"

"How about a taste test?" I offered, smiling up at him. "I made a grocery run on Saturday with stuff that you haven't had a chance to try out since your return to life."

Bob looked curious now. "Such as?"

"Chocolate." I grinned, letting the syllables roll off my tongue. "Strawberries. Bananas."

"'Not that good' at dirty talk, indeed," Bob chuckled, indulging in a long, slow kiss before pulling back to look into my eyes. "It won't take long to prepare the food, will it?" he asked, kissing my cheek before whispering in my ear. "I seem to be rather hungry at the moment."

I think a couple fuses blew in my brain at that growling whisper. "Not long," I managed.

"Good." Bob pulled away, the absence of his body heat causing me to shiver. "Let's go."

"Oh, no, you don't," I muttered, turning the tables by pushing Bob onto his back. "If you try to help, we'll never get out of the kitchen."

"That's a bad thing?" Bob asked, not looking nearly as innocent as he sounded.

"I'd rather not accidentally flash Murphy if she decides to drop by." I growled.

Bob grinned. "Oh, I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

I cleared my throat and kissed him to try to get him to shut up. "I'll be right back. Keep the bed warm."

Bob made a show of stretching his arms and back, snuggling into the flannel sheets with a smile that made him look like a cat that had just been locked in a petshop full of canaries overnight. "I'll try to bear up as best I can."

I cleared my throat, improvised a toga out of the sheet and fled downstairs. I think I broke a speed record getting the food I'd bought ready, because by the time I made it upstairs, Bob looked as though he hadn't moved from where I'd left him.

"And how exactly am I supposed to keep the bed warm if you steal the sheets?" Bob asked, trying to unwrap me while I set the plate of food down on the table next to my bed.

"You're a wizard," I teased, leaning down to kiss him. "You would've thought of something."

Bob hmphed, tugging at the sheet. "It's quite likely I might have set the bed on fire by mistake."

"You?" I kissed him again before I stood up and shrugged off the bedsheet. "Perish the thought."

Bob snorted, glancing at the food.

"See anything you like?" I asked.

Blue-green eyes gave me a once-over that had my face heating up again. "Oh, yes."

I got back into bed, shifting around a bit so that I could reach the food and Bob at the same time.

Bob smirked as he watched me. "Comfortable?"

I snorted. "But of course. Any preferences?" I motioned to the plate. "We've got a selection to choose from."

Bob did that luxurious-looking stretch again, the sheet making it more enticing somehow, like a getting a glimpse of the forbidden as it slipped down his waist. "Surprise me," he murmured, still smiling.

I considered my options and picked out one of the slices of orange. "Have you ever had oranges before?"

Bob shook his head a little, his white hair an interesting contrast against the dark blue of the pillow. "No. I knew of ships that brought them in from the tropics, but by the time they arrived in port, the shipments were usually rotten."

"Now you'll get to try a fresh one," I said, carefully brushing Bob's lower lip with the edge of the orange slice. "Close your eyes, and try to savor it."

Bob raised an eyebrow at me before dutifully closing his eyes and taking a slow bite. His eyes popped open again, looking pleasantly surprised.

"What's it taste like?" I asked. I didn't have much of a chance to eat oranges over the past few years, what with living on a shoestring budget more often than not, but I knew what they tasted like. Being able to watch Bob taste it for the first time, to watch him roll it around his tongue and hum a little, was something that I'd always treasure. He chewed a few times, his eyes slipping closed again as he savored it. He swallowed, and opened his eyes again, this time looking vaguely annoyed.

"Quite good, actually," he said. "Though I admit I am a little disappointed that you haven't started talking dirty to me."

I blinked. "I thought we were going to do the taste test instead?" I held up the half of the orange slice that he hadn't eaten as a reminder.

Bob snorted. "I agreed to the taste test. I didn't say I didn't want to listen to you whisper sweet nothings in my ear."

"Whisper sweet nothings?" I asked incredulously. "Have you met me?"

Bob looked at me for a long moment before laughing out loud. "Why, yes, I believe I have." He gave me another appreciate once-over. "Intimately, in fact."

Just for that, I popped the other half of the orange slice in my mouth and chewed.

"Now, you're just being greedy," Bob said. He reached up and tugged me closer with a hand on my arm, kissing me when I got close enough. It got a bit messy, and there was definitely a tug-of-war going on for the orange slice, but Bob won it by running his fingers down my stomach. When he reached my reawakening erection, he gave me a very firm stroke that had me moaning into his mouth. When we finally broke for air, Bob had a little smirk on his face, chewing what was left of the orange slice before swallowing in a manner that I could only really call victorious.

"Who's being greedy now?" I asked, leaning down to lick the juice on his lips and chin.

Bob hummed contentedly, his hand loosening its grip. Fingers walked up and down the hard flesh, stroking in random spots.

"If you want me to talk dirty," I gasped against his lips, "you're going to have to stop."

Bob seemed to consider this for a moment, and then the tantalizing touch of his skin against mine disappeared. "Talk to me, Harry," he purred.

I shook my head, my brain still fried from the intimate massage. "Dunno what to say."

A hand reached up and touched my face, stroking my cheek. "Say anything, Harry," he murmured. "Or, how about you tell me what you were thinking of when I mentioned being able to have an orgasm without physical stimulation."

I closed my eyes and groaned a little. "Already told you."

Fingers stroked my lips. "Tell me again. Give me details."

I cleared my throat, trying to ignore the fact that my face was breaking out into a forest fire yet again, and started talking. I don't remember exactly what I said, but I described how his head was thrown back, how my hands were pinning his hips against the kitchen counter, the way his lips parted just a little, and he was moaning.

"I wanted to bite your neck," I said in a rush. "You gasped a little when I started sucking on it earlier... What would it be like to leave a mark there, for anybody to see?"

Bob stared at me, his eyes glazed over. "I could hide it with a turtleneck," he said in a low voice, looking all too interested in the idea to be serious.

"None of my stuff would fit you," I whispered, leaning down and kissing that spot I'd found before. He made that little gasp again, tensing and squirming a little before his hands found the insides of my thighs and stroked inward. "You can barely wear my old T-shirts as it is." I kissed his collarbone gently. "They show off your chest really well. I almost don't want to buy you new clothes."

Bob gave a low, dark chuckle, the sound thrilling down my spine. "Perhaps I'll only wear them around the house. Maybe when I'm working in the lab, if something might prove especially messy."

I growled, licking at his chin. "Sure, and every time you bend over, I'll have to remind myself that bending you over the lab table is a bad idea."

He made an intrigued noise in his throat. "Oh? There I am, stirring something, and when I have to get the scales from the bottom cabinet, what would you do?"

I licked my suddenly dry lips. "I'd take whatever it was off the heat."

Bob blinked for a moment, and then grinned, his hands laying on top of my thighs and stroking down towards my knees. "That's very commendable, Harry. I'm sure that I and my imaginary project thank you. What next?"

"When you stood back up with the scales in your hands, I'd set them down on one corner of the table, and kiss you."

Bob shifted a little where he lay. "Light and teasing?"

"Since when have I ever been that subtle?" I growled. "I'd kiss you deeply, take my time. Undo the fly on the jeans you were wearing, because you keep wearing my jeans."

"Indeed, I do," Bob murmured. "The denim is worn enough to feel wonderful against my skin, and some of them have tears in such interesting places. What would you do next?"

"I pull the jeans down, try to get the underwear at the same time."

Bob smirked. "I don't wear underwear."

I blinked, and then I coughed. "That's just not fair."

"Oh?" Bob looked surprised. "How so?"

"Now every time I look at you, I'm going to know that you're not wearing any underwear."

"Is that so terrible?" Bob purred, trailing his fingers along the inside of my thighs again teasingly.

"Brain melting," I managed.

"Ah, of course." He busied himself with reaching over with one hand and plucking another orange slice from the plate. "What else?"

"Where was I?" I asked.

"Easing my jeans down and discovering that I don't wear underwear." Bob grinned. He nibbled on one end of the slice of orange. My brain blew a couple fuses.

"I'd get the jeans out of the way, and touch you." I did a bit of touching my own this time, stroking up his leg until I met the wiry curls around his erection. His eyes slowly blinked for a second, his lips parting. I held my breath. "Too much?"

Bob shook his head. "Keep going," he whispered.

I took the orange from him and traced it along his lips as my other hand continued getting closer and closer to his erection. "You'd have goosebumps from the lab. I'd feel them on your hips where I touched you. You'd feel so warm against my skin."

Bob closed his eyes and took a bite out of the orange. "What then?"

"I'd take you in hand then," I said, slowly matching actions to words and wrapping my hand around him, and squeezing just a little. He gasped for a moment before moaning loudly. "You'd look so tempting, your lips red from the kissing." I squeezed again, and he moaned again. "I'd pin you against the lab table to make sure you didn't move, because I wouldn't want to just touch you. I'd want to taste you."

Bob growled low in his throat, and when I offered the orange to him again, he not only took the rest of the slice, he sucked on the tips of my fingers.

I growled back, leaning in close to his ear. "I've wanted to see you like this for such a long time," I whispered, too dazed from watching Bob to feel embarrassed. "I love going down on women, men, anybody. To know that I'm making them moan and gasp and squirm with just my mouth. Feeling their skin against my lips." I squeezed his erection again, stroking my hand up and down without realizing it. "Holding them still while they twisted underneath me, tasting them in my mouth, smelling them." I inhaled sharply, smelling Bob's scent and his desire.

That's when Bob came.

He threw back his head, half-shouting, half-gasping, his hair bright against the pillow. His eyes squeezed shut as though he were in pain, but he breathed in deeply through his mouth, his lips flushed. He shuddered once, muscles tensing as he came until finally, he sank back onto the bed, looking like he was ready to melt into a puddle of goo if I let him. He panted a few times before he got his breath back, and when he did, his lips stretched into a contented smirk.

I grinned. I couldn't help it, really. Here Bob was, having had his first orgasm in nearly nine hundred years, and I'd done it. I'd made him look like that. I hadn't gotten a chance to go down on him, but we'd have to desensitize his sense of touch first. And then I'd be able to take my time.

I started licking my hand without thinking about it. Hell's bells, I didn't realize I was doing it until Bob opened his eyes and stared at my mouth.

Then he growled, and kissed me, long and deep. Before I knew it, his hand was wrapped around my erection, and he was jerking me off again. Given how turned on I was after having watched Bob shout through an orgasm, it didn't take long for me to finish off, Bob kissing away my air as I did so.

Bob took over, pulling me back into bed and drawing the sheets up around us before resting his head against my shoulder and wrapping an arm around my waist. I looked down at him, a bit bemused.

"Comfy?" I asked.

"Mmm, definitely," Bob said with a hum. There was a little smile on his face that made my chest tighten a little.

I shifted around until I could wrap an arm around his shoulders and stroke his back. "I didn't realize that wizards doubled as pillows."

Bob snorted a little, stirring the hair on my chest. "Of course we do. How else would we be able to have children?"

Under my hand, I could feel the waxy burn over Bob's shoulderblade, the soft skin of his back. It was kind of amazing really. I had never thought that I'd be able to do this -- have Bob in my bed, content from an orgasm, using me as his personal body pillow. He slid a leg over mine, twining his ankle around it just so, and snuggling into my shoulder.

It felt... good. Like the universe had finally paid me back for all the times it had beaten me up, torn me down, and left me feeling angry and alone.

"Harry."

"Yeah?" I asked, kissing his hair.

"As much as it surprises me to say this, you're thinking too much," Bob murmured, a yawn interrupting the last word. "Go to sleep."

"Is that an order?" I asked, unable to resist teasing him a little.

"More like a friendly suggestion." He lifted his head to look me in the eye, smiling a little. "It wouldn't do for you to fall asleep while I'm having my way with you."

I frowned, a little fuzzy from the orgasm. "When're you doing this?"

"As soon as I wake up again." He smirked, kissing my cheek. He settled back down against me, laying his head on my shoulder, and after a few minutes, went to sleep.

After thinking a bit more about my good fortune, and trying not to think of when the other shoe was going to drop, and how hard, I followed him.

After all, I didn't want to disappoint him.

**Author's Note:**

> 1 Butcher, Jim. _Summer Knight._ New York: Penguin Group, 2002. Readers of the books might notice that this is similar to the book's description of the convention center in _Summer Knight_. It's intentional, but at the same time, I ended up with my own mental image of it? Hope it works for you.  [ return to text ]
> 
> 2 Butcher, Jim. _Summer Knight._ New York: Penguin Group, 2002. Unfortunately, this was lifted word-for-word from Summer Knight. I couldn't think of the Merlin saying anything different in this case? *sigh* As soon as I come up with something, I'll change it, but I'll keep the citation.  [ return to text ]
> 
> 3 Butcher, Jim. _Summer Knight._ New York: Penguin Group, 2002. I tried to change the description for Aleron LaFortier from the books, but I don't know how successful I was. Either way, better to cite than plagiarize. [ return to text ]


End file.
